When travelling, he liked to have with him one of his medicine men, who could charm away rain by blowing with his magic horn. So sure was the doctor of his powers, that on one occasion he would not allow the party to repair a dilapidated hut in which they passed the night. As it happened, a violent shower of rain fell in the middle of the night, and drenched the whole party. The doctor, however, was not at all disconcerted, but said that if he had not blown the horn the rain would have been much heavier. Still his natural strength of mind sometimes asserted itself, and on one remarkable occasion, when the small-pox had destroyed so many people, and the survivors were crying out for vengeance against the sorcerers who had brought the disease upon them, Quengueza forbade any more slaughter. The small-pox, he said, was a wind sent from Njambi (pronounced N’yamyé), who had killed enough people already.
Like most native chiefs, Quengueza had a pet superstition of his own. At his own town of Goumbi (or Ngumbi, as it is sometimes spelt), there was a very convenient and dry path leading from the houses to the river. Quengueza, however, never would use this path, but always embarked or landed at an abominable mud bank, over which it was necessary to run as fast as possible, in order to avoid sinking in the river. The reason was, that when he came to the throne he had been told that an enemy had placed an evil spirit in the path, and that he would die if he went along it. So powerful was this spirit, that several unavailing attempts had been made to drive it away, and at last Quengueza was obliged to send for a renowned Bakalai wizard named Aquilai. This was the same man who was mentioned in [page 502] as the father of the boy who was tried by the ordeal of the hot ring.
“The people gathered in great numbers under the immense hangar or covered space in which I had been received, and there lit fires, round which they sat.... About ten o’clock, when it was pitch dark, the doctor commenced operations by singing some boasting songs recounting his power over witches. This was the signal for all the people to gather into their houses, and about their fires under the hangar. Next, all the fires were carefully extinguished, all the lights put out, and in about an hour more not a light of any kind was in the whole town except mine. I gave notice that white men were exempted from the rule made in such cases, and this was allowed. The most pitchy darkness and the most complete silence reigned everywhere. No voice could be heard, even in a whisper, among the several thousand people gathered in the gloom.
“At last the curious silence was broken by the doctor; who, standing in the centre of the town, began some loud babbling of which I could not make out the meaning. From time to time the people answered him in chorus. This went on for an hour; and was really one of the strangest scenes I ever took part in.... The hollow voice of the witch-doctor resounded curiously through the silence, and when the answer of many mingled voices came through the darkness, it really assumed the air of a serious, old-fashioned incantation scene.
“At last, just at midnight, I heard the doctor approach. He had bells girded about him, which he jingled as he walked. He went separately to every family in the town, and asked if the witch which obstructed the king’s highway belonged to them. Of course all answered ‘No.’ Then he began to run up and down the bewitched street, calling out loudly for the witch to go off. Presently he came back, and announced that he could no longer see the aniemba, and that doubtless she had gone never to come back. At this all the people rushed out and shouted, ‘Go away! go away! and never come back to hurt our king.’ Then fires were lit, and we all sat down to eat. This done, all the fires were again extinguished, and all the people sang wild songs until four o’clock. Then the fires were again lit. At sunrise the whole population gathered to accompany their king down the dreaded street to the water.
“Quengueza, I knew, was brave as a hunter and as a warrior. He was also intelligent in many things where his people were very stupid. But the poor old king was now horribly afraid. He was assured that the witch was gone, but he evidently thought himself walking to almost certain death. He would have refused to go if it had been possible. He hesitated, but at last determined to face his fate, and walked manfully down to the river and back amid the plaudits of his loyal subjects.” The artist has represented [this victory] over superstitious fear, on the 508th page.
Throughout the whole of this land are many of these prohibitory superstitions. When, for example, a woman is about to become a mother, both she and her husband are prohibited from seeing a gorilla, as all the natives firmly believe that, in such a case, the expected child would be a gorilla cub, and not a human baby. Drinking the water of the Rembo is also prohibited, because the bodies of those who are executed for witchcraft are chopped up and flung into it, and the natives imagine that, if they were to drink of the water, they would become sorcerers against their will. Yet, as if to show the inconsistency of superstition, there is a rite, which will be presently mentioned, in which tasting the water is the principal ceremony.
There is a certain island in the Rembo of which the natives have the greatest dread. It is thickly covered with trees, and the people fully believe that in the midst of this island there lives a huge crocodile covered with brass scales. This crocodile is an enchanter, and by his incantations every one who lands on the island either dies suddenly, or goes mad and wanders about until he dies. Du Chaillu of course did land, and traversed the island in different directions. The people were stupefied with astonishment; but even the fact of his safe return made no difference in their belief, because he was white, and the great enchanter had no power over white men.
As to the fetishes, they are innumerable. Weather fetishes are specially plentiful, but, unlike the charms of Southern Africa, they are used to keep off the rain, not to produce it. One fetish gave our traveller a vast amount of trouble. He had purchased, from a petty chief named Rabolo, a small deserted village, and had built a new house. The edifice was completed all but the veranda, when the builders refused to work any longer, as they had come upon a great health fetish that Rabolo had placed there when the village was first built. They flatly refused to touch it until Rabolo came, and, even after his permission had been gained, they were very nervous about the seeming desecration.
The fetish was a good example of such articles. Buried in the sands were two skulls, one of a man and another of a chimpanzee, this combination having a high reputation among the Camma. These were buried at the foot of the two posts that constituted the entrance to the village. Then came a quantity of crockery and broken glass, and then some more chimpanzee skulls, while a couple of wooden idols kept company with the component parts of the charm. A sacred creeper was also planted by the posts, which it had covered with its branches, and the natives believe that as long as the creeper survives, so long does the fetish retain its power. Rabolo was very proud of his health fetish, as no one had died in the village since it had been set up. But, as there had never been more than fifteen inhabitants, the low death-rate is easily accounted for.