XIX.—Why the Mist rises from the Water.
Ogbaja of Ikom was the son of Chief ’Njum, and his mother was called Nara. Chief ’Njum was a poor man, but he had a farm and a few slaves to work for him. When Ogbaja grew up, he became a hunter, and being a good shot with his bow and arrows he nearly always succeeded in bringing back some meat, which he took to his father.
One year the season was so dry and the sun so hot that Chief ’Njum could not plant his yams in time, and when he did plant them it was too late, and there was a very bad crop in consequence.
When the food began to get scarce, Chief ’Njum told his son to go hunting every day to supply meat for everybody.
Ogbaja went out every morning with his bow and arrows, and generally returned in the evening just before it was dark, carrying the animals he had killed. He also used to bring some bush mangoes with him as well, as they were useful for making soup.
His father always sent Ogbaja to the chiefs every day with a small piece of meat and one mango for each, and after a time they got to know him quite well.
Just at that time there were eight wicked people who had been driven out of the town. Some of them were witches and others were poisoners, but one of them was a cripple, and could only scramble along on his hands and knees. These people were not allowed to make farms, so they were forced to live on the fruits and seeds which they found in the forest.
Ogbaja knew all about these men, and was afraid to meet them, so he always gathered mangoes at a time when he knew they would not be near the tree.
One day Ogbaja’s mother Nara said she wished to go with him to gather some fruit, but he told her that she could not go, as the witches were dangerous men and might kill her.
Nara, however, made up her mind to go, so she put ashes in Ogbaja’s bag which he always carried, and made holes in the bottom, so that she could follow him.
Ogbaja got up early in the morning, and took his bow and arrows with him to hunt; then as he went along he left a trail of ashes behind him, which Nara followed, and at last came to the mango tree, where she found Ogbaja picking up the fruit.
Her son said “Why do you come here? If you had waited at home, I would have brought you some fruit.” But his mother told him that she wanted to get the fruit herself, and commenced gathering the mangoes and eating some of the ripe ones.
Ogbaja said, “I cannot take you home, as I must go out hunting to get food. I will therefore leave you at the top of the tree, where you will be safe from the wicked men, but you must be careful to keep very quiet and not move when they come.” He then helped his mother up the tree, and left her sitting on a branch, telling her that he would return the same way after he had finished hunting, late in the afternoon, and take her home. He then went away.
At midday when the sun was high up, the witches came and started to pick up the mangoes, but they left the cripple underneath the tree.
When they had finished, they told him they were going to the stream to get water and would return to him later.
Nara was very frightened when she saw the witches, and kept quite quiet, but when she saw them go down to the stream she thought they had all gone, so she moved about in the branches and looked all round.
This movement soon attracted the attention of the cripple, who was lying on his back, and he looked up and saw Nara sitting on the branch.
Shortly afterwards the seven bad men returned with the water, and after he had taken a drink he told the others what he had seen in the tree. They looked up and saw Nara, so one of the witches climbed up the tree and threw her down. She was killed at once, and they cut the body up and divided it and took it home to eat. The cripple claimed the head for his share. As he was unable to walk, he crawled along the path on his hands and knees, rolling the head in front of him.
When Ogbaja returned to the mango tree after his hunting to take his mother home, he could not find her, but on looking about on the ground he saw the bloodstains where his mother’s body had been cut up, and at once knew that she must have been killed by the witches. He never gathered any fruit, but returned home empty-handed.
Ogbaja was far too frightened to go to the place where the bad men lived to look for his mother, so he went home, feeling very sad.
When he returned, Chief ’Njum asked him what had become of his mother, but Ogbaja’s heart was so full of grief that he could not answer. Then his friends Bojor and Osobia came and asked him why he grieved so much. So he told them what had happened, sobbing all the time.
His father, in the meantime, had sent to call another chief called Agborleku, who was a very wise man, to consult with him as to what was the best thing to be done.
When Agborleku arrived, Chief ’Njum told him what had happened to his wife. Then Chief Agborleku sat for a long time without speaking, considering what was the best way to get rid of these wicked men.
At last he told Chief ’Njum not to do anything for two months, as, by that time, the witches would think they were quite safe.
He was then to prepare a big feast and make plenty of strong tombo, half of which was to be made from the tombo drawn from the top of the tree and the other half from a tree which had been cut down. He was then to mix the two lots of tombo together. Cows would then be killed and goats, and all the people of the country, including the witches, would be invited to attend the feast which would be given in honour of the chief’s dead wife.
A certain house would be set aside for the witches to sleep in, and they were to be given plenty of tombo to drink, so that they would sleep well. When they were fast asleep, they would be covered up with dry palm leaves and then burnt to death.
Chief ’Njum agreed that this was a good plan, and commenced making preparations for the feast. When they were completed, a man was sent to the eight witches with a message from Chief ’Njum, that he would like the people who had been turned out of the town to take part in the big feast he was giving in honour of his dead wife.
When the man had gone, the cripple tried to persuade the other witches not to go to the feast, as he said that the people of the town would be certain to revenge themselves upon them for the death of Nara, but the witches did not agree with him, and said that it was impossible for Chief Njum to know that they had killed his wife, as no one had seen them do it, and they did not think he would ask them to a feast if he wished to harm them. They also said that they had not had a good feed for a long time, so, in spite of the entreaties of the cripple, they decided to go.
When the day of the feast arrived, the seven evil men carried the cripple to the town, and at once began to eat as much as they could, and drank large quantities of the strong tombo. But the cripple eat very little, and did not drink any of the tombo, as he was suspicious of the people.
Very soon, the seven witches were quite drunk, and lay down in the house which had been set apart for them, and went fast asleep. The cripple also lay down and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, but in reality he was wide-awake and very watchful.
When Ogbaja saw that all the witches had gone to sleep, he covered them all over, very softly, with dry palm leaves, and, having set fire to them, went out and fastened the door.
The seven men were burnt to death, as they were too drunk to escape, but the cripple managed to crawl into a large water-pot which was kept in the room for drinking-water, and the fire did not hurt him, as he only kept his mouth just out of the water.
When the house was burnt down, Ogbaja went inside to see that all the witches were dead, and counted the bodies, but could only find seven. He thought he must have made a mistake, so he counted them again out loud, one, two, three, up to seven, and the cripple called from his pot after him the numbers up to seven. Ogbaja could not understand this, so he counted the bodies again aloud, and again the cripple copied him. Ogbaja then called the people in with hoes, and they dug up the ground, but could not find the eighth body. Ogbaja then counted the bodies again, and the people listened carefully; the cripple answered as before, and they guessed from the direction the voice came from that the last of the witch-men must be in the water-pot, so they looked in and found the cripple. They dragged him out of the pot at once, and said, “As you do not seem to like to be killed with fire, we will kill you with the water-pot you took refuge in.” They then dragged the cripple down to the waterside, where they made a large fire, and put the water-pot into it. The cripple begged them not to put him in the fire, but no one answered him. When the pot was red-hot, it was taken out of the fire and placed over the cripple’s shoulders. He was then pushed into the river. The red-hot pot caused steam and mist to rise from the water, and it is still to be seen when the mornings are cold that mist rises from the river, and people say that this is caused by the red-hot pot which was placed over the shoulders of the wicked cripple when he was thrown into the water and the steam still continues to rise.
Told by Ewonkom, an Ikom woman.—[E.D., 23.6.10.]
XX.—How Ibanang Okpong and her Mother were Swallowed by a
Man-eating Drum, and how they Escaped from its Inside.
Years and years ago the Ikom people had never seen the large wooden drum called ’Ndofu. This drum was made out of the trunk of a hard-wood tree and hollowed out with a long slit at the top. When this drum was beaten with two soft pieces of wood, the sound carried for a great distance. This drum was used for dances and for calling the people in from the farms when there was any big palaver on, or if the town were going to be attacked. Messages could also be sent to anyone who understood the beat of the drum.
About this time, many people from the surrounding towns and countries disappeared and were never seen or heard of again, until at last it became known that one of these wooden drums lived in a town in the bush not far from Ikom, and if anyone strayed into the wooden drum’s town by accident he was swallowed alive and was never seen again. The people of Ikom therefore warned their children never to go by themselves to the farms unless they knew the road very well indeed, as if they took the wrong path and went to the town where the wooden drum lived, they would be swallowed up and would disappear for ever.
In those days a man called Okongo Osim lived at Ikom. He had a very beautiful wife whose name was Inkang Ezen. They only had one child, Ibanang Okpong by name, and both the father and mother were very fond of her. They took great care of the little girl, never allowing her to go about by herself, and frequently warned her about the bad ju-ju who lived in the bush and eat people. Ibanang, however, did not pay much attention to what her parents said, and, as she was never allowed to go out to the farm, she grew to be very discontented.
The parents arranged that they would never go to their farm together, so one day Okongo Osim would go to the farm and leave his wife to look after their daughter, as she could help in the cooking and get water from the river. The next day the father would stay at home to look after the girl and his wife would go to the farm.
This went on for some time, until at last Ibanang became very dissatisfied, as she had never been to their farm and wanted to see what it was like very much. So she waited until the day when her mother had gone to the farm and she was left in charge of her father.
Ibanang then said she was going down to the river to get water to boil the yams in, but, instead of doing as she proposed, she left her water-pot on the ground outside the house, and ran off along the path which she knew her mother always took to go to the farm.
After she had gone for a little distance outside the town, Ibanang came to a place where the path divided and, not knowing which way to go, she took the path which led to the right, and ran on until she came to a cripple sitting on the side of the path beneath a tree. He greeted her and offered her some kola. But Ibanang was in a hurry to find her mother, and would not stop. She ran on and paid no attention to the cripple, who shouted after her that she ought to go back, as the path did not lead to her farm.
After she had gone a little distance she was out of breath, so she stopped to rest for a time. While she was resting, a small wooden drum came up and spoke to her. He offered a kola nut, which she refused, and he then told her to go back, but Ibanang would not listen to him and said she was looking for her mother. She then ran on and passed several more wooden drums, each one bigger than the last; they all told her to return, but she was obstinate, and still ran on until at last she came to a clearing in the bush where there was an enormous wooden drum held up by forked sticks and resting on the ground.
As the girl had never seen anything like this drum before she went up quite close to it. The drum then said to her: “What are you doing in my town? No one is allowed to come here, and if anyone does come, they never go back again.”
The girl then began to be afraid and looked round to see how she could escape, but the path she had come by had closed up and there was no way out, as she was entirely surrounded by thick bush.
She then listened and could hear singing and dancing going on, but the sounds seemed to come from the inside of the drum, and, although she looked round everywhere, she could not see anybody.
While she was wondering where the sounds came from, the big drum opened his lips wide and swallowed her up. She slid down his throat and fell into a big compound where there were many people singing and dancing. Ibanang did not know any of the people, but they were those who had disappeared from the surrounding towns for some years.
She then asked some of the people why they did not go back home; so they told her that the only way was to climb up and cut the heart and liver out of the drum, but they could not do that as they had no matchets or knives.
This made the girl very sad, but, as she could not see any other way out of the place, she made up her mind to enjoy herself, and sang and danced with the rest of the people.
When Ibanang’s mother returned from the farm her husband told her that Ibanang had escaped from the house and had gone to the farm. But her mother knew that she must have lost her way, as she had not been to the farm and guessed at once that she had gone to the town of the wooden drum, where she would be killed. She then abused her husband as much as she dared for not looking after their child properly, and pulled her hair down and cried all the night.
Inkang Ezen told her husband that in three days’ time she would set out to find Ibanang, and that if she did not find her she would never return. The next two days Inkang Ezen spent in borrowing native razors from her friends and sharpening them.
Then on the third day she started off, when there was no one about, with the razors in her cloth, and went by the road leading to the town of the wooden drum.
She had not gone far when she met the cripple, who was always in the same place from morning until sunset. He offered Inkang Ezen some kola, as he had done to her daughter, but she refused to take it. Then the cripple called her back and said she was on the wrong road and that if she went further she would never return; but the woman told him she did not care, as she was looking for her daughter, who had disappeared.
She went on, and met the small drum, who also offered her kola, and tried to persuade her to go back, but she would not listen to him.
After that, she passed drum after drum, until at length she arrived at the big drum, who asked her why she had come, so Inkang Ezen said she was looking for her daughter Ibanang, and would like to go to the same place where she had gone.
Then the big drum took her up, and, having opened his big lips wide, he swallowed Inkang Ezen in the same way as he had swallowed her daughter.
When she went down the drum’s throat and reached the compound, she came across several people she did not know, but, on looking round, she saw her daughter, and ran to her and embraced her.
She talked to Ibanang for some time, until the people came up and spoke to them. Inkang Ezen told them that Ibanang was her daughter, who had lost her way in trying to find their farm. She also told them that she had found out how to escape from the drum before she came, and had brought some sharp razors to help them to cut their way out. When the people heard this, they were so glad that they danced and sang all the night through.
In the morning Inkang Ezen gave her razors to the men, and they at once climbed up into the drum, and commenced cutting the drum’s heart out, bit by bit.
When they began to cut, the drum felt a great pain in his inside, and made such a noise that all the small drums and the cripple came to enquire what the matter was. When they came, the big drum told them that he had a bad pain in his heart, and thought that the people he had swallowed must be trying to cut their way out. He then asked them if they could do anything to help him, but the small drums said they could do nothing.
All this time the men inside the drum were cutting away at his heart and liver with their razors, until at last the drum got up from his seat, and fell over dead.
When the drum fell down, Inkang Ezen told the men to work hard and cut their way out. They cut their way through the drum’s heart and liver, and then made an opening in his lips big enough for a man to crawl through. One man got out, and told the people inside that it was quite light.
Then all the people came out of the inside of the drum one after another, including the goats and other animals that the drum had swallowed.
Everyone praised Inkang Ezen very much for the way she had delivered them, and asked her to show them her house, so that they would know where to find her in the future. She was very glad to do this, and took all the people to her husband’s house.
When they arrived, a report was sent round the whole country that the big wooden drum, the destroyer of men, was dead.
Then the men went to the home of the big drum with axes, and cut the drum into pieces and carried them to Inkang Ezen’s house.
After the body of the drum had been eaten up, the bones were preserved. They bored holes in the leg bones, and took the marrow out. The bones were then used to beat the drums with at dances and in times of danger.
The people who had escaped from the drum’s inside each took one of his bones and departed to their different towns, where they all made big wooden drums like the one which had swallowed them.
Told by Ewonkom, an Ikom woman.—[E.D., 23.6.10.]