“Go forth, male spirit, with my ghost in thy hand!
Go forth, female soul, with my ghost in thy breast!
Rise high up to heaven and mount on the black back
Of the bird of the wet wind: poke your hands in his eyes!”
“Ough! Ough!”
Save for the distant wailing, there was the silence of those waiting for a miracle. In the sky, at the back of the idol, was the paling of dawn. Suddenly, as if exasperated by the non-obedience of the elements, Kawa Kendi sprang to his feet, with the magic wand in his right hand, turned and stared apparently into the face of the idol. For a full two minutes he stood as if carven, while the doctors and the chiefs moaned dismally. Around him like a pall still hovered the smoke of the magic fire. From the village a cock’s challenge was answered from point to point. Then shooting out his right hand, Kawa Kendi made gestures as if hooking something invisible and began to scream furiously:
“Thus do I, the One-not-to-be-mentioned,
Drag forth from the belly of heaven
The disobedient One, the lazy One!
The insolent One who sinneth in sleep!