Chapter IX: Some Customs, Games, and a Journey

The luck-giver is called to bring prosperity on the town--His mode of
procedure--Satu and some of his people go on a visit to a great
chief--Good and bad omens--The game at “Antelope”--Bakula narrates a
story: “How the Fox saved the Frog’s Life”--Another lad tells why
inquiry should come before anger--The difficult road--Bakula and his
friends dress themselves--Their mixed wardrobes.

Satu, the chief, wished to have a healthy and prosperous town, and his people were one with him in this laudable desire. Now the only way they knew of obtaining their object was to send for the luck-giver (or, _ngang’a zumbi_), who possessed a bag of charms consisting of pieces of the skins of various animals and reptiles, bits of herbs, and powders concocted of indescribable messes. These were supposed, when properly used, to impart good health to a town, good luck in breeding animals, and prosperity in trade. The people clubbed their moneys together, for, as all were to share in the good fortune to be conferred by the charm, all were expected to give towards its expenses; and as the benefits would be large the cost would also be proportionately great.

I had observed that people who owned little fetishes and expected small benefits only from them made small offerings to them, such as a little blood from the foot of a frog, or from the toe of a chicken that cost them nothing. Those who wanted larger boons killed fowls and poured their blood over their fetishes; and those who wished for greater advantages sacrificed goats every month--their expectations were in proportion to their sacrifices.

The fee having been collected, the luck-giver was called. He was a wizen-faced, withered man with small, crafty, shiftless eyes. His appearance seemed to belie his cornucopian office; but, perhaps, he could give to others the good fortune that he had apparently failed to procure for himself.

On his arrival he very carefully selected a hard wood log and cut a hole in it, and into this hole he put bits of all the articles from his bag so as to make the log an effective charm. A hole was dug in the ground on the outskirts of the town by the side of the road along which the women passed when fetching water from the stream. A goat was then killed and the head put in the hole, and the fetish stick erected on it--this was supposed to preserve the post from the attacks of the white ants,--and then the blood from the slain goat was poured over the charms in the post; and over the hole containing the charms was tied a piece of palm-tree gossamer, which also was drenched with the goat’s blood. Earth was rammed round the stick, and the fetish was now completed, and ready to work.

But there was one prohibition that the luck-giver said must be scrupulously observed: nothing tied in a bundle could be brought into the town, or the charm would become ineffective, and its luck-giving power destroyed. Women returning with firewood must untie their bundles before reaching the fetish; men with bundles of thatching-grass must take off the bands; carriers with loads must either loosen all the cords, or make a wide detour to avoid the town; and the people must remove their girdles and belts.

This was a very cunning prohibition, for, if the town had good health, the animals bred well, and the trade prospered, then the luck-giver received all the credit for making such a wonderful charm; but if no good results followed the expense and trouble of setting up such a costly fetish, then some one had broken the taboo and nullified the luck-giving properties of the fetish post.

As the luck-giver was there Satu and some of the head men thought they would invest in a luck charm for their own private use. My owner, Bakula, longed to speculate in one, and he counted his little store of savings, but found that he had not near enough for the fee, etc.

The necessary arrangements having been made and the fee paid, Satu and the head men selected strong, young cocks and carried them to the luck-giver, who took out of his bag of charms a small portion of each and pounded them carefully into a well-mixed paste, and a little of this “medicine” he gave to each cock, and thereupon they became the very embodiment of luck and all kinds of good fortune to their happy owners.

As only rich men could afford such luxuries as these expensive charms the superstitions respecting their wealth-giving powers were fostered and maintained. From that time these fowls were treated as fetishes. No one was permitted to beat or hurt a luck fowl (or _nsusu a zumbi_). It was respected like a chief, and strutted about the town crowing aggressively, as though it were fully cognizant of its own importance.

This fetish fowl was supposed to tell its owner of coming events as danger to the town or to himself. By its crow it predicted the future, and, as only the owner was able to rightly interpret the crow, he had therefore exclusive information which he could use for his own advantage. I found afterward that when these fowls grow old they are killed and eaten only by their owners, and the charm is given to other fowls; and sometimes the charm is put into a billy-goat or into a male pig, and they are then treated with respect like the fetish fowls, and tell their masters by their bleatings and gruntings of future events.

One day Satu told his people that he was going in eight days to visit the great chief of a distant town, and he asked some of his people to go with him. He had fourteen wives, but he promised to take only six of them. He reckoned to be absent about a fortnight, or, as they put it, four _nkandu_,[26] i. e. sixteen days. Great preparations were made for this visit of ceremony. All who owned bits of finery brought them out of their hiding-places and furbished them anew. Cassava roots were dried, peanuts were shelled, and as the day of departure drew near _kwanga_[27] bread was made ready for the journey. Messengers had been sent to inform the chief of the coming visit, and had returned with greetings and words of welcome.

Footnote 26:

See Chapter XVIII, on native markets, p. 223.

Footnote 27:

See note 11, p. 345.

The day at last dawned on which Satu was to pay his important visit to a brother chief. Bakula, with a bundle of Satu’s best cloths, cosmetics and trinkets, led the way; then came some ordinary town-folk carrying sleeping-mats, food for the journey, small bottles of palm-oil, and cakes of camwood powder. Following these was our town band, consisting of five ivory trumpets and three drums. Whenever we drew near to a village or town our band played to notify the folk that some great men were coming. Behind the band came Satu with his six wives, other head men followed with contingents of wives from their harems, and Old Plaited-Beard brought up the rear with three of his wives.

We had not gone very far when a snake darted out of the grass on one side of the road, but instead of crossing the path, it turned up towards the oncoming party. Bakula, terrified at the evil omen, called a halt and sent word along the line to ask Satu what was to be done.

While Satu was hesitating Old Plaited-Beard came up, and as soon as he heard of the ill omen he insisted that the whole party should return and start the journey over again. Many protested at this foolishness, but others, swayed by superstitious fears, agreed that the only wise course was to return at once.

Fortunately we were not far from our town, and before the sun was very high we were back at the starting-point, where we rested for a short time, and received the condolences of those left in the town.

If the snake had only turned the other way it would have been an augury of good luck. Bakula, directly he saw it coming out of the grass, should have shouted, and then the snake would have directed its course the opposite way. He might have turned, by prompt action, an ill omen into a good augury, and we should have been saved all this trouble.

After a rest we again started, and as a bird flew along the path in the direction in which we were going everybody began to laugh and crack jokes, for this omen of the bird was entirely in our favour.

About the middle of the afternoon we reached a village, where we decided to spend the night. The chief of this village, being a man of no family, paid homage to Satu, and gave him and the other head men houses for the night, but the ordinary members of the party slept in the open. Satu also received from the chief presents of different kinds of food, as bunches of plantain, baskets of cassava flour, a few fowls, and two demijohns of palm-wine, which was fizzing loudly with fermentation and was strong enough to make them drunk, only fortunately there was not enough of it.

While we were resting I noticed the youngsters in this village played an amusing game called “Antelope,” and they did it in the following manner: All the players but one ran about on all-fours with their faces upwards, one person alone being allowed to stand up, and he was called the “antelope,” and the others were called the “hunters.” They scuttled about in this ridiculous attitude, and each tried to touch, or kick the “antelope” with his foot.

A large court had been marked out on the ground, and the “antelope” was not allowed to go outside it, and the “hunters” tried to hem him in a corner; but when the “antelope,” to avoid being touched, ran out of court all the “hunters” got on their feet and chased him, and he who first pretended to cut him up with a knife became the “antelope.”

A general _mêlée_ usually ensued, for every one pretended to cut him up with shouts of “a leg for me,” “head for me,” “some flesh for me.” The game excited much laughter, and all seemed to enjoy it thoroughly.

After the evening meal was over, and the men had lit their pipes and gone to hold high converse on politics, woman, and sundry other important matters, Bakula was called upon by the young men of the party to tell a story or two before they rolled themselves in their mats for the night.

Nothing loth, he told, with all his usual grace and sprightliness, the following story, perhaps suggested by the fact that they themselves were on a journey. He called it--

“How the Fox saved the Frog.”

“A Frog, having built a nice town, received a visit from several well-dressed young men. The Frog welcomed them, and they very civilly answered his greetings. The Frog asked them where they were going, and they replied: ‘We are not going anywhere in particular; we are just walking about visiting the towns.’ The Frog called out his thirty wives to come and pay their respects to the visitors, and they came out of their houses and greeted the young men.

“The wives asked their husband how he came to know them, and he replied: ‘I do not know them, but seeing them well dressed I saluted them.’

“‘Oh! you welcomed them because they are well dressed,’ they retorted; ‘yet ever since we married you we have never received any new cloths from you.’[28]

Footnote 28:

It is the custom for a man to give his wife at least one new cloth
every year.

“‘Never mind,’ he said, ‘I am well known as a great chief who has built a whole town and married thirty wives.’

“‘Oh yes,’ they answered, ‘you are well known; but we work and farm, and have no cloths, only rags, hence you don’t respect us like those who are well dressed.’ The Frog was dumb.

“The Frog asked the young men where and how he could buy some cloth, and they told him that if he carried some peanuts to Mboma[29] he could buy plenty there, and the road was not difficult to find, for if he followed the river he would reach there in a few days. The Frog was glad to hear this, and thereupon he killed six fowls and made a feast for his friends, and told each of his wives to bring him a large basket of peanuts in the morning, for he said: ‘Altho’ I am a big chief of a large town I feel ashamed, because my wives have had no new cloths since I married them, and they do not dress properly.’

Footnote 29:

See note 19, p. 347.

“The next morning the peanuts were brought and tied into a load, and for the journey some food was prepared, and the Frog started, telling his wives that he would be back in twenty days.

“On the third day of his journey the Frog reached a large baobab-tree that had fallen across the road, and while he was considering how he, a person with such short legs, could jump over it, he heard a voice say: ‘If you are a strong man please put down your bundle and save me, for as I was on my way to visit my wife’s family this tree fell on me and has held me here for twenty months. Have pity on me and help me now from under this tree.’

“When the Frog heard this, he at once put down his load and went under the tree, and swelled and swelled until he lifted it and the Snake was able to crawl out; then the Frog let the tree down again, and went to pick up his load to continue his journey. The Snake, however, immediately caught him by the leg, and told him to get ready to be swallowed.

“The Frog said: ‘What have I done that you should swallow me, for although I had a right to be paid for helping you, yet I did not ask for anything! Let me go on my way to Mboma.’

“While they were arguing about this an Antelope arrived, and he was asked to judge between them; but when he had heard the whole matter he was afraid to settle the affair properly, for he said to himself: ‘If I let the Frog go, who is right, but little, then the Snake will kill me.’ So the Antelope gave the verdict in favour of the Snake.

“The Snake quickly said: ‘Do you hear that? Get ready at once and I will swallow you.’ But the Frog cried: ‘He would have given me the verdict only he is afraid of you.’

“While they were discussing this point a Fox arrived on the scene, and he wanted to hear all about it. When the case was laid before him, the Snake said: ‘Am I not in the right, for I am very hungry and want to swallow the Frog?’

“But the Fox would not give the verdict until he had seen the Frog lift the tree, so he said to the Snake: ‘Release the Frog’s leg and let him go and raise the tree,’ which the Frog did at once.

“The Fox said: ‘Truly the Frog is very strong to lift so large a tree. Now, Snake, you go under it, and show us how you were lying beneath the tree.’ So the Snake went, thinking he would surely win the case as the judge was taking so much trouble over it, but the Snake was no sooner under the tree than the Fox called out: ‘Frog, let go the tree,’ and down it came right on the Snake, holding him so that he could not get away.

“The Fox then said to the Snake: ‘You are entirely in the wrong, for your friend did a kindness to you in helping you in your trouble, but you want to repay him by a bad deed--you want to swallow him.’

“Thereupon they all went away, leaving the Snake under the tree, as no one would help him again for fear of his ingratitude.

“The Frog thanked the Fox for saving him, and gave him his load of peanuts, and they became great friends.”

At the close of this story no one had a word to say in defence of the Snake’s ingratitude. All thought he was rightly punished in being left beneath the tree to starve to death, and Bakula remarked that: “Ingratitude is a crime so black that no one ever owned to being guilty of it, and everybody is ready to condemn it in others.”

This story had so swept sleep from their eyes that they begged Bakula to tell them another of his stories; but he said he could not recall any more stories that night; and then another lad volunteered, and, with much laughter, told the following story of the trick a jocular boy played on two friends. I call this--

“Inquiry should come before Anger.”

“Once upon a time a Wine-gatherer and a Fisherman became great friends; they ate together, walked and talked together, and went to work together; and when one went to collect wine from his palm-trees the other would look after his fish-traps in the streams and pools near to the palm-trees; and after their work was finished they would meet in the booth to drink the wine and cook and eat the fish together.

“One day, while thus eating and drinking, the Wine-gatherer said: ‘There is no one who can break the strong friendship that exists between us two,’ and the Fisherman assented, saying: ‘Why, if you had not mentioned it, I was going to remark that no one can separate us one from the other.’

“A frolicsome boy heard them make this covenant of friendship, and laughingly said to himself: ‘When they go away I will do that which will test their friendship for each other.’

“In a short time the two friends returned together to their town, and when they had gone the boy took the hoop and climbed up the palm-trees, and removed all the small calabashes that were placed there to catch the palm-wine, and then he went to the pools and streams and gathered all the fish-traps, and put the calabashes in their place, and the fish-traps he tied to the palm-trees. Having thus changed them he returned to his town.

“Next morning the Wine-gatherer and the Fisherman awoke, and calling each other they started for the valley where their work was, and there parted--one to look at his calabashes on the palm-trees, and the other to visit his fish-traps.

“The Wine-gatherer, on arriving at the booth, took his hoop and climbed a palm-tree, and there he found, not his calabash, but a fish-trap; he pulled it off and threw it down in anger, and descended the palm. Thus he went from palm to palm and found nothing but fish-traps, which he collected and carried to the booth, and sat down to wait for his friend, full of wrath and indignation.

“While this was happening the Fisherman was going from pool to stream, finding nothing but small calabashes floating on the water where he had put fish-traps the night before. In great anger he gathered them up and carried them to the booth, and there he met his friend, who said: ‘Those calabashes, are they not mine?’

“To him the Fisherman replied: ‘Those fish-traps, are they not mine?’

“‘Why did you put your useless fish-traps in my palm-trees?’ excitedly asked the Wine-gatherer.

“‘Why did you put your silly calabashes in my streams and pools?’ retorted the Fisherman.

“And without more ado they stood up and beat each other, and cut each other, until at last they fell exhausted to the ground.

“At this moment the mischievous boy arrived, and seeing their plight, said: ‘What! are you not friends? Why have you been beating each other? I heard your covenant of friendship the other day, and because I wanted to try it I went and changed your things. Now you have been quarrelling with each other without talking matters over. Inquiry should come first, and anger follow after.’”

This story elicited many a chuckle from the listeners; but at last, overcome by sleep, they rolled themselves in their mats and were soon in the land of dreams. The next morning they were astir before sunrise, and after traversing many hills and wading several swamps and streams Bakula and his friends reached their noon camping-place, tired, hungry and disagreeable. Everybody threw down his or her load, and stretched themselves in the shade.

It was a wearisome road. The hills were steep, the paths simply rain-washed gutters where all the earth had been swept away by the torrents, leaving only the rough stones sticking up, and often on either side of the track was tall grass from ten to twelve feet high that interlocked their stalks when the storm winds played among the hills or whirled through the valleys, so that the travellers as they pushed their way forward had frequently to put their arms before them to keep the points of grass out of their eyes and the sharp blades from cutting their faces.

_Photo_] JUNGLE PATH THROUGH THE FOREST [_Rev. R. H.
Kirkland._
(Said to be haunted by bad spirits at night.)
]

Huge boulders like giants’ marbles were strewn about the hill-tops, and some were clinging to the sides of the hills, while others were lying about the valleys as though the players in their games had thrown them too far. The travellers had, with difficulty, to wind round or clamber over them, and every extra exertion was felt in such a tropical heat.

After resting they ate some of their _kwanga_ loaves, and, bathing in the turbid river, they picked up their burdens to start again on their journey, when Old Plaited-Beard kicked his foot against a stone. A look of horror came into his beady eyes at the ill omen against himself.

The snake omen was against the whole party, but this was against the individual. On a journey like this the omen might mean death at the end of the journey to whomsoever it occurred, and the only way to counteract its potency in this case was to go right back home and stay there.

Old Plaited-Beard was too superstitious to disregard the portend, and with many a muttered curse on his carelessness he turned his face homewards, having taken the long fatiguing journey to no purpose. No one regretted his going, for he was as cantankerous as he was superstitious.

His wives and followers at first refused to return with him; but the old man, infuriated at their unwillingness, poured upon them a torrent of abuse, charged them with bewitching him to kick the stone, and threatened them with the curses of his various fetishes in such invectives that they trembled before him, and, gathering their goods, followed him with hearts full of fear and hate.

We lost so much time over these events that instead of reaching our destination that evening we were compelled to spend another night on the road. The whole of the next morning was leisurely spent in resting and dressing.

Satu and his followers bathed during the morning, using soap-worts, which lather well, instead of soap. Then one of his wives combed out and replaited his hair, and dusted it with fine camwood powder. Another wife very carefully rubbed his face, body, legs and arms with palm-oil, to render the skin soft and cool; and a third pounded some camwood into a fine powder, and, putting it into a coarse mesh cloth, dabbed the oiled skin with the cosmetic, giving it a pleasant look and an appearance of being well groomed. A thick band of brilliant red was drawn across the forehead, and Satu went and lolled on a mat to wait for those who had not such expert wives.

The wives rubbed one another with palm-oil, and dusted each other with the red camwood powder. Bakulu and his friends operated, with the skill of experience, on each other, and I came in for such a polishing that I shone like gold on my owner’s neck.

These toilet operations being completed, bundles were untied and a miscellaneous assortment of garments and gaudy coloured cloths were brought to light, and were donned with all seriousness.

The eight bandsmen were adorned in two old pairs of trousers, three waistcoats, one pair of boots--down at the heels and out at the toes, two jackets with patches of different colours on the sleeves, and two peaked hats that, like their other articles of attire, had seen better days in other climes. The intervals in their dress were filled with diverse pieces of gaily coloured cloth. Satu followed, invested in a bright red blanket round his loins, two waistcoats, old and ill-fitting, across his chest, a heavy brown coat on his back, and a large brass fireman’s helmet on his head. Behind him came his wives, the foremost of whom carried a red, black and green parasol over her husband’s head. The sun blazed, and poor Satu perspired in the costume that had cost him a heavy tusk of ivory.

The other head men were arrayed in soldiers’ coats of diverse ranks and regiments--in their selection they had not been captivated by the stripes on the arms, but by the colours. Hence you saw a colonel of one regiment hob-nobbing with the corporal of another. Bakula wore a cloth of gorgeous colours round his waist, a brewer’s cap on his head, one stocking (he owned a pair, but had lent the other to his particular friend) on one leg, a boot on the other, and a beaming self-satisfied smile on his face.

Fortunately we had not far to go. Up a slight hill, across a plateau, and there stood the town we had come to honour with our presence.