Mr Long says in his History of Jamaica, written about 1770: “The term Obeah, Obiah, or Obia we conceive to be the adjective and Obe or Obi the noun substantive, and that by the words Obia men or women are meant those who practise Obi.”
Mr Bryan Edwards, writing at the beginning of last century and commenting upon the probable etymology of the word, says: “A serpent in the Egyptian language was called Ob or Aub. Obion is still the Egyptian name for a serpent. Moses, in the name of God, forbids the Israelites ever to inquire of the demon Ob, which is translated in our Bible charmer or wizard—divinator aut sorcelegus. The woman at Endor is called Oub, or Ob translated Pythonissa. Oubaris was the name of the Basilisk, or Royal serpent, emblem of the sun, and an ancient oracular deity of Africa. This derivation, which applies to one particular sect, the remnant probably of a very celebrated religious order in remote ages, is now become in Jamaica the general term to denote those Africans who in that island practise witchcraft or sorcery.”
The Obeah man, as I have heard him described, is generally a most forbidding-looking person, craftiness and cunning being stamped on his features. He pretends to a medicinal knowledge of herbs, and undoubtedly is well versed in the action of subtle poisons; his trade is to impose upon his simple compatriot. The negro consults him in cases of illness, as well as to call down revenge upon his enemies for injuries sustained. It is wonderful how secret they keep their “Obeahism” from the white man. They always “set Obi” at midnight. In the morning the stoutest-hearted negro gives himself up for lost when he sees the well-known, but much dreaded insignia of the Obeah man upon his door-step, or under the thatch of the roof. This generally consists of a bottle with turkeys’ or cocks’ feathers stuck into it, with an accompaniment of parrots’ beaks, drops of blood, coffin nails, and empty egg-shells. The same spirit of fatalism which makes the black tell you he cannot “dead” before his time, causes him to believe himself the victim of an unseen irresistible power. The dread of supernatural evil, which he is powerless to combat, acts upon what nervous system he possesses, so that sleep becomes an impossibility, his appetite fails him, his light-heartedness disappears as the ever-growing fear possesses his imagination more and more, and he generally dies. Whole plantations of slaves have been known to be almost depopulated by this extraordinary superstition. At one time the Obeah rites were so cruel, that the impostors, if caught, were hanged; flogging is now the punishment awarded to them. Naturally, the deaths by poison are ascribed to the powerful supernatural agency at work. If some black wiser than his fellows should suspect that other than Obeah influence was answerable for the death of his friend, his terrible dread of the awful vengeance which these wizards would work upon him would effectually restrain his tongue from betraying them. If a black man loses a pig or a sheep, he immediately has resource to the Obeah man, whom he pays as much as the latter can extort from him to “set Obi” for the thief. When the last-named rascal discovers this, he seeks out a more famous Obeah man to counteract the magic of the first. Should he find no one to undertake the job, he will probably fall into a decline from sheer fright of unknown calamity hanging over his head. Such is the story of their ignorant priestcraft. The law of Jamaica recognises “blood, feathers, parrots’ beaks, dogs’ teeth, alligators’ teeth, broken bottles, grave-dirt, rum and egg-shells” as the unlawful stock-in-trade of the Obeah man. One of these gentlemen was hung in all the feathers and perquisites of his profession in 1760. He had come with other slaves from the Gold Coast and headed a revolt in a plantation in St Mary’s Parish, but the panic-stricken negroes soon quieted down upon the death of their leader. This led to a discovery of their superstitious practices, which were immediately legislated against.
Bryan Edwards tells a story of a sugar-planter who, returning to Jamaica after a temporary absence in 1775, found that great mortality had taken place amongst his slaves, the remaining number of them being in a lamentable condition. He tried his hardest to find out the cause of the depopulation of his estate, but without success. At length he had reason to suspect Obi. A negress, who had long been ill, one day confessed to him that the reason of her sickness was that her old stepmother of eighty had “put Obi” upon her, and that she had done the same to those who had died off so quickly. The other slaves on the property admitted that since she had come from Africa she had carried on this trade and was the terror of the place. The owner of the plantation immediately searched the hut of this hoary-headed witch, with the result that inside the thatched roof the whole of the miserable materia Obeah was found. In addition to the usual feathers and rags an earthen pot was found under the bed containing quantities of round clay balls variously compounded, some with hair, or rags, or stuck round with dogs’ or cats’ teeth, also egg-shells filled with a gummy substance which, unfortunately, was not subjected to a rigid analysis. The hut was burnt; the old woman was not hung, but sold to some Spaniards who took her to Cuba. History does not record her performances further. But once removed from the scene of her evil practices, the slaves lost their fear, and the mortality amongst them ceased. The proprietor estimated he had lost a hundred negroes in fifteen years from the practice of Obeahism.
There is no doubt that superstition, which always goes hand-in-hand with ignorance, is born and bred in the descendants of Ham. Nowhere, I learn, is this more the case than amongst the Jamaican negroes inhabiting the mountainous parts of the island. In the Blue Mountains, where wooded heights and musical murmuring streams suggest supernatural agencies, one finds weird ideas among their folk-lore. If you can persuade some native to talk about the “duppy,” you may learn that that which is most feared is a rolling calf; you will be told how the sight of it foretells great misfortune, and those who have witnessed the awful phantom describe it as a huge animal with fire issuing from its nostrils, and clanking chains as it rolls down the mountain-side, burning everything in its path. Other apparitions of a cat as large as a goat, with eyes burning like vast lamps, are said to have been seen by the mountain dwellers at nightfall in the woods. Some of these story-tellers will eat a raw rat before relating the ghost stories, to give them, as they express it, a “sweet mout.”
Indeed, it was during our conversation on the verandah one morning when one of their strange notions was forcibly brought to my notice. The three boys of the family, after their early coffee at 7.30, had gone for a ride, and a swim in the river; on their return an altercation was heard in the dining-room, and the eldest son came and showed his mother where Theodora, one of the black maids, had actually bitten him. The children had scuffled, the servant lost her temper, and actually bit the boy till the blood came, and then cursed him. Needless to say, she was very soon packed off. But Mrs M—— explained to me that to curse with blood in the mouth is quite a usual practice with them. Any amount of Obi, said she, is secretly practised in country parts and in secluded mountain parishes in spite of the most carefully-framed laws against it. Since the police officials are mostly black, one can easily understand how the culprits may be shielded. The same thing holds good with petty theft, of which everybody having property in Jamaica whom I met complained bitterly. On this pen where I stayed, fowls were frequently taken, yams also and bananas; two years before they had lost a cow and calf. The thieves were never discoverable, though the local police called at the house occasionally, to get their books signed, to show they had faithfully executed their rounds.
To return to our subject, I read in an American magazine that one of the well-known Obeah poisons is made as follows. The negro takes the juice of the cassava plant, which he squeezes on to a copper pan, and places it in the sun. The most horrible insects are the result, which are dried and ground to a powder. The Obeah man or woman drops into the victim’s coffee or soup a tiny particle of this powder, which produces death without leaving a trace of the drug. Some of their poisons induce insanity.
I heard of a black servant-girl who tried to murder her mistress by putting ground glass in her soup. It was fortunately discovered in time, but not before the young woman had absconded, leaving no trace behind her.
Some planters adopt Obi to ensure themselves against thieving. They take a large black bottle, fill it with some phosphorescent liquid, and place within it the feather of a buzzard, the quill sticking uppermost. This they fasten to a tree on the outskirts of their coffee-patch or banana-field, where it can be well observed by all who pass near. The dusky population, firmly believing it to be the work of the Obeah man, refrain their thieving propensities accordingly. I was told, too, how their fatalism causes them to cruelly neglect their sick.