Congo life and folklore

by John H. Weeks

The spirit-killing witch-doctor was called, and made the night hideous with his shouts, threats, screams and gun-firing. He worked hard at his craft, received his fee and went; but the poor woman still continued ill, and, in fact, became much worse--the pain at her right side was acute, the breathing difficult, and the fever high. Her moaning was continuous, and the women who attended her knew not what to do for her relief. They were unskilled nurses and lacked knowledge rather than the feminine qualities of caring for the sick. There were no foods for invalids, no dainties to tempt a patient’s appetite--the sick had either to eat what the robust and healthy ate or go without. Many patients have died of hunger rather than of the diseases from which they suffered.

The practice of the witch-doctor was sheer quackery, and rested more on the exorcism of evil spirits by magical charms, incantations and concoctions, than on a knowledge of physiology, disease and medicine. The wonder was that any one survived the various treatments, and, in fact, only the fittest and strongest did recover from serious illnesses.

Bakula’s mother continued to grow worse. How he wished they were near the mission station, where she could have the help of those who cured his oil-scalded arm and nursed him so carefully; but the station was too far away! He attended his mother assiduously, and would have done more for her, but the women drove him out of the hut with jeers and curses, after his denouncement of the witch-doctor and their tricks. Poor creatures! they knew no better, they were doing their very best for the patient. They were simply safeguarding her from one whom they thought was full of witchcraft.

Another “doctor” was called, among whose outfit were several traps especially made for catching evil spirits. Having put a little fowl’s blood into each of the traps, he placed them around the doors of the house in which the sick woman was tossing in her efforts to breathe freely. He then pounded some herbs and chalk together, mixed them in palm-wine, and giving the patient this decoction to drink, sat down to watch the entrance of any evil spirit into his traps, disguised as cockroaches or spiders. Although he caught and killed several of the supposed evil spirits, i. e. several spiders and cockroaches, and therefore, according to his statements, the woman would now recover quickly, yet she grew worse.

In their desperation the family sent for yet another wizard who had the power to converse with spirits, and consequently was able to ask them why they were inflicting so bad an illness on the suffering woman! He came with his fetish, and, before locking himself in a house, told the people that they would see the house shake as he talked with the spirits. The family sat around the place listening and watching intently.

In a short time they saw the hut quivering and heard the bitodi fetish speaking and the spirits talking, and the answering voices were male and female, old and young.

After a long consultation between the nganga’s bitodi fetish and the spirits (nkwiya), the wizard came out, and said: “Some member of the family is guilty of breaking the country customs, laughing at ngangas, and throwing his (or her) charms away, consequently this sickness has come as a punishment. This same member has also a ndoki (or evil spirit), and whoever it is must bless the patient so as to remove the evil influence from her.”

Suspicion instantly fell on my owner, Bakula, for who else had broken the country customs but he! Had he not learned to read! Had he not accepted the white man’s palaver, and renounced his charms! Had he not laughed at ngangas and denounced their rites and ceremonies as cheating tricks!

Bakula was dragged into the hut to bless his mother. He solemnly took her right hand and, pretending to spit on it, said: “May you have blessing and good fortune.” Then he was hurried out of the room of his dying mother.

This particular “doctor,” to prove his bona fides, had heated a machet red hot three times, and had drawn it each time across his tongue. What better proof did the natives need than this of the nganga’s magical power to converse with spirits? He received a large fee of more than ten shillings’ worth of trade goods, and went his way, leaving his victim to bear the brunt of the family’s vengeance.