The distribution having taken place, and each warrior made perfectly satisfied with his share, there remained one more duty to perform—a religious duty—which might not be neglected long, and this was the religious ceremony of making each warrior magically strong in arm and limb, by giving him to drink of the consecrated drink.
This ceremony took place the evening of the day after the battle. First, fires were lighted around a large circle outside the boma, or outer palisade of Kwikuru, with only one entrance left for the passage of the sacrificial bodies of the dead Arabs. The bodies, being all denuded of their clothing, were laid diametrically across the circle. Then earthen, tin, and copper pots full of water, with some millet-flour in each, were placed over the fire, and then small bottle gourds (with numbers of small pebbles in them), two for each magic doctor, were prepared and placed near the heads of the bodies. Everything being thus ready, the magic doctors took their sharp knives in their hands and began their work. To the sound of a low crooning song, or rather chant, the words of which could not be distinguished, the knives were set to work on the bodies of their enemies, first in cutting the tips of each nose, then the lower lip, then the flesh under the chin, then the ears and the eyebrows, which, when ended, they conveyed to the pots over the fires. Continuing their work, the nipples of the breasts were then cut, the muscles of their arms and legs, and, lastly, the whole of the flesh covering the abdomen, which they took and placed in the pots over the fire. Then the hearts were extracted, and, finally, the fat of the entrails of each body. After this mutilation and disfigurement of the dead, the head of each body was cut off and placed on the end of pointed poles, to be borne around the camp during the ceremonial song.
Within half an hour the water had boiled sufficiently, and the magic doctors, taking the wonderful gourds filled with pebbles in their hands, began to shake them to the tune of a monotonous chant, in the chorus of which the warriors, bearing the heads aloft on poles, joined, marching slowly as they sang around the circle. The words ran thus, as well as they may be translated:
Oh, the horrible, fearful battle,
Where warriors slew and were slain,
Where dead lay unnumbered, and wounds were made,
Till the field ran red with blood that was shed
In the horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. With the blood that was shed
In the horrible, fearful battle.
Ferodia the chief, Ferodia the strong,
The lion and leopard in war,
Tifum Byah, Maro, and Wafanyah,
Great chiefs of the unconquer’d Watuta,
In the horrible, fearful battle,
Chorus. In the horrible, fearful battle.
They heard the loud note, the war-horn’s note,
Olimali, their friend, was distress’d;
They rose from the bush, they rose from the ground,
They rush’d to Kwikuru, and hemm’d them round,
For a horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. For a horrible, fearful battle.
The Arabs and blacks who came from afar.
Who came from near the sea,
To give the Warori and Watuta, King Olimali and Ferodia,
A horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. A horrible, fearful battle.
Warori were brave, the Watuta were strong,
’Gainst those who came from afar.
The Arabs lie dead by hundreds around;
They will hear never more the war-horn’s sound,
For a horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. For a horrible, fearful battle.
Then, drink, warriors! drink the true magic drink!
The strength of your enemies slain!
Drink of the blood, of the fat, and the heart,
Drink to commemorate before we part,
The horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. Before we part
The horrible, fearful battle.
Then, drink, warriors! drink the true magic drink!
The strength of your enemies slain!
Be strengthened in heart, in limb, and in arm,
Be strong, be swift, be wise, and safe from harm
In each horrible, fearful battle.
Chorus. And safe from harm
In each horrible, fearful battle.
When this chant was over, which has been rendered into English as faithfully as possible, the poles on which the ghastly trophies had been placed were planted in the ground before each gate of the village. But the young Arabs were spared this fearful scene, as they had been sent ahead with the loads, escorted by a strong guard. Then, the ceremony over, the chief Ferodia embraced in a loving manner his friend Olimali, and departed to the sound of booming horns and drums, and a general grateful look from the young women of Kwikuru—he and his warriors.
At sunset they camped in a forest, through which the road led towards the south-west.