XIII.—Of Chief Amaza, his wife Achi and the Tortoise.
Achi was a fine-looking Okuni woman, the wife of Chief Amaza. He was very fond of her and would not have any other wives.
She lived with her husband for some time, and eventually conceived. The chief then told his wife that she was not to go out of the house as she might give birth to the child when there was no one about to help her.
About this time a ju-ju man called Nkendeng was driven out of the Okuni towns into the bush near Insofan because he used to kill people with a poison called Ekpinon.
When the dry season came, it was the custom of the Okuni women to go into the bush to the small rivers, and having dammed them up with sticks and clay, they would bale the water out and catch the fish. As a rule they stayed out in the bush for several days, and on these occasions the married women were accompanied by their husbands, and the young women would have their men friends.
As Achi was skilful at catching fish, she begged her husband to allow her to go, but he refused on account of her condition. Achi was, however, determined to go and bothered her husband so much that at last he consented and they started off together.
Chief Amaza did not take any of his slaves with him as he did not wish to stay more than two days in the bush on account of his wife’s condition.
When they arrived at the river, which was close to where the ju-ju man lived, they found that most of the people had already dried their fish and were returning home. The chief then begged his wife to go back with the other people to the town as he was afraid of the ju-ju man. But Achi refused, and said she had taken a lot of trouble to come all the way from Okuni and she would not go back without some fish. When the chief saw that his wife was determined to stay, he made a bush shelter for them both to sleep in.[5]
Amongst the people who came to the fishing was the tortoise, who had made his shelter near the source of the stream. He did not fish himself, but he brought his drum with him and a large bag. In the evenings the tortoise used to play his drum very skilfully for the people to dance, and as a reward they used to give him dried fish, which he put in the bag.
The next day the few remaining people packed up their fish and returned to Okuni, but the tortoise remained behind, as he hoped to get some fish out of Achi and her husband.
Achi and her husband went fishing that day, and caught a lot of fish between them, which they dried on sticks in the smoke of the fire at night.
The next morning Achi was not feeling well, so she told her husband to go and fish by himself. Achi was quite alone, when suddenly she felt pains, and shortly afterwards the child she was expecting was born. She then called for her husband to come and help her, but he could not hear.
The ju-ju man, however, had heard the child cry, and came to Achi at once and assisted her by boiling water for her to wash with. He then took the child up and washed it, and placed it on some soft dry leaves on the ground.
He then asked Achi what she would give him as a reward for the trouble he had taken. But Achi said “I have nothing to give you. Wait until my husband returns.” But the ju-ju man said, “I know what you are thinking of, you want to put me off with a present of some fish, but I do not intend to accept anything of the sort. Nothing will content me but the head of your baby, which I intend to give to my Ekpinon ju-ju.” When Achi heard this she began to cry, and while she was crying her husband came in, but no sooner did he see the ju-ju man than he threw his load of fish on the ground and ran off to the nearest farm as fast as he could go.
Shortly after this the tortoise came down to see what was the matter, and he found the ju-ju man preparing to cut the baby’s head off, and Achi weeping and imploring him to spare her new-born baby. The tortoise then asked the ju-ju man some questions, and at last agreed that he should take the baby’s head, but that he should leave the body. He then reminded the ju-ju man that, when anyone was going to be killed, it was the custom to beat the drum and march the victim to the slaughter place. The ju-ju man agreed that there was such a custom, so the tortoise went off and fetched his drum.
Very soon afterwards he returned, and commenced to play and sing, and he played so well that the ju-ju man felt compelled to dance. The tortoise then beat his drum louder and louder, and faster and faster, telling the ju-ju man to dance further off, as he would hear the drum better. He did so, but very soon returned to see that Achi and her child was safe. He continued to dance a little way off, and then returned two or three times, until the tortoise told him that he could dance as far off as he liked, as he was there to look after Achi. He then went further away each time until the sixth time, coming back always to look at the child.
The tortoise told Achi that, the next time the ju-ju man danced away, she was to pick up her baby and cover it with her cloth, and then run by the nearest path, which he pointed out to her, to a farm which was not far off, and where he thought her husband had gone to.
When the ju-ju man had gone some little distance, Achi picked up her baby, and ran off as fast as she could go. The ju-ju man then returned, and the tortoise drew in his head and legs into his shell, but the ju-ju man was so angry at losing the baby that he picked up the tortoise and carried it home. He then placed the tortoise on the ground in front of his ju-ju, and drove a stake through his body, and said to the ju-ju, “This is the man who stole Achi’s baby from me, and prevented me from making a human sacrifice for you, so you must take him instead.”
Achi reached the farm safely, and found her husband, who took her away at once to Abijon, a town about five miles inland from Okuni. He then consulted a lot-caster called Aja as to the baby’s future, and asked him whether the child would live or die as the ju-ju man had seen him.
Aja placed his mats on the ground, and having sat down with his legs crossed, he cast lots. He soon discovered that the tortoise had sacrificed himself for the child, and that the child would therefore live, but he warned the chief that the Ekpinon ju-ju walked about when the sun was high up in the sky, and that he must never allow the child to go out in the middle of the day, as the ju-ju would kill him. The chief, with his wife and child, stayed three months at Abijon, and then returned to Okuni.
Since that time tortoises have always been sacrificed to the Ekpinon ju-ju, and the Okuni people always warn their children never to go out in the middle of the day, when the sun is high up, as they might meet the Ekpinon ju-ju without knowing it, and when they returned home they would get sick and die.
Told by Ennenni, an Okuni woman dancer.—[E.D., 17.6.10.]
XIV.—The Fate of Agbor the Hunter, who killed his
Wife and Children.
Agbor was an Okuni man, and was married to a woman named Awo, by whom he had two children, but they were both girls, much to his annoyance, as he wanted a boy who would be able to help him with his work when he grew up.
Agbor was a hunter and a trapper, and it was his custom to set traps all along the road to the boundary where the Okuni farms joined up with Insofan. Every morning he would start off with his bow and arrows to inspect his traps and take out anything he found in them, and sometimes, if he were lucky, he would shoot a buck or bush pig.
When he returned in the evening, Agbor used to worry his wife and tell her that he wanted a son, until at last Awo told her husband that, as she did not appear to be lucky with her children, he had better save up and buy a slave who could help him. This Agbor did, and after a time he managed to buy a slave called Edim. The slave always went with his master into the bush, and helped him with his trap-setting and carried the heavy loads.
One day Agbor caught a small bird in one of his traps, so he took it out very carefully and carried it home. He then made a cage for it, and fed it with seeds. Agbor warned his wife and two children that they were on no account to touch the bird, as he was very fond of it, and did not want any harm to happen to it. Then, for some time, Agbor took much trouble in taming the bird, and taught it to sing. In the evenings, when he returned from hunting, he used to take the bird round to some of the chiefs and head men of the town, and the bird used to sing to them. This pleased the chiefs so much that they used to give Agbor presents of tombo and yams.
One day, while Agbor and his slave Edim were absent in the bush hunting, one of Awo’s daughters opened the cage and let the bird fly away.
When the hunter returned, he found that his pet bird had gone, and he was very angry indeed, so he asked his wife who had let the bird go, and Awo told him. Agbor then got a cutting whip, and flogged his daughter very severely until the blood ran. Awo was much annoyed with her husband for beating the child, so she packed up all her things, and said she was going to return to her parents and would take her children with her. But Agbor would not let her go, and told her to go to bed and take her children with her.
Agbor then got his matchet, and having sharpened it on a stone, went into the house and cut his wife’s head off, and then killed his two children. When he had done this he was frightened, and ran away into the bush and hid himself.
The next morning at daylight Edim the slave went to wake his master as usual to go out and visit the traps, but he found that the hunter was absent. Edim then opened the door of Awo’s room, and looked in. There he saw the floor was covered with blood, and the three dead bodies were lying together on the bed.
Edim then ran out of the house shouting, and told the people of the town what he had seen, and that Agbor was not in the house. The people then went to the house to look at Awo and her children, and the father and brothers of Awo at once armed themselves and set off into the bush to find Agbor.
After searching for some time they found him setting one of his traps, so they surrounded and caught him; then, having tied him up securely with his hands behind his back, they brought him into the town and handed him over to the head chief.
The chief asked Agbor who had killed Awo and the two children, and he replied that he had done so as they had made him angry. He told the chief that one daughter had let his pet bird fly away, and when he flogged her the mother had threatened to leave him and to take the children with her. The chief told Agbor that he had no right to kill his wife and children, and sentenced Agbor to be killed by degrees.
He was then led away and tied up to a post in the middle of the town. A man with a sharp knife then cut off Agbor’s left hand. But Agbor said nothing, much to the disappointment of the people, who wished to hear him shout. So the torturer said, “Do you feel any pain, Agbor?” and he replied “No.” After a short time the man cut off Agbor’s right hand, and as he still remained quiet, the man asked him, “How do you feel now, Agbor?” He replied as before, that he did not feel any pain. Then they cut off his left foot, and still Agbor remained quiet.
The people were not at all satisfied with this, so they lit a fire and put Agbor’s right leg into it. The pain of the burning was so great that Agbor screamed with agony, but the people laughed and told him that he was now feeling what death was like, and to remember how he had killed his wife and children. Agbor implored the people to kill him at once, but they refused, and left him tied up to the post, where he died during the night from loss of blood.
When Agbor was dead, the father of Awo claimed his head, so it was cut off and given to him, and the body was buried.
He then buried the head for two weeks, until the ants and maggots had removed the flesh. He then dug the skull up again, and placed it on the ground outside the door of his house.
Then, every morning when he went out, he would hit the skull with his chewing-stick which he cleaned his teeth with, and say, “Ah, you killed my daughter, but I conquered you.”
From that time, whenever the Okuni people go to war, they put the skulls of their enemies whom they have killed on the ground, so that they can show them to all people as the heads of their enemies whom they have slain, and they always hit them with their chewing-sticks when they go out in the morning, saying, “I conquered you; I conquered you.”
Told by Ennenni of Okuni.—[E.D., 19.6.10.]