Congo life and folklore

by John H. Weeks

The next day a large town was reached, and Satu sought out the “medicine man” there, who was famous through all the countryside for the wonderful power of his fetish, and the charms he made from it. Satu told him how he had struck his toes against a stone, and his fear of the evil omen, and asked the wizard to avert the evil. Some of his companions laughed[^[9]] at him for wasting his money over such nonsense, while others, who were more superstitious, advised him to fee the wizard well, and thus enlist his power to stave off the threatened mischief.

This particular “medicine man” had a charm which was called Kimbaji-mbaji (meaning, to-morrow), and any person who came under its protection could not be harmed because he who wanted to hurt him always put off the carrying out of his evil intentions until to-morrow, and, as you know, to-morrow never comes. The special charm used by this wizard was a shell full of various herbs which had been pounded, mixed and rammed into it.

The troubled man took a fowl to the wizard, who killed it and poured some of its blood into the shell, which he then placed on the ground, surrounding it with eight little heaps of gunpowder. After dancing about them for a short time, and chanting an incantation over them, he exploded the powder and blew his whistle vigorously. These ceremonies aroused the charm to work effectively in the postponement of the evil spells that were being used against the man. The wizard received twenty brass rods as his fee; and Satu went on his journey satisfied that the omen could not now work against him.

Satu, however, found on his arrival home that the wizard’s power was ineffectual in his case, for his brother, the chief of the town, was very ill and nigh unto death. Hence their arrival, instead of being acclaimed with the loud shouting of women and children, and the firing of many guns, was greeted with the solemn headshakes of the men, the crying of the women, and the beating of drums by the “medicine men.”

The patient was apparently so bad that as a last resort they had called all the “medicine men” of the district together in the hope that their combined force would rescue the man from the malignant influence of the evil spirit--the ndoki that was killing him. All night long they had been drumming, shouting, beating gongs, and parading about the town calling on the evil spirit to desist, but without avail, for the chief was now dying, and Satu had only just arrived in time to receive his brother’s last wishes about his property and the names of those who owed him money, and slaves.

All the goods brought from the coast were piled in the chief’s house so that he might gloat with dying eyes on his increased wealth, and curse in strong, passionate language the ndoki who was causing his death.

From my fortunate spy-hole I could with ease view the weird scene. It was a small hut built of grass and sticks tied neatly and securely together. There were two doors, but no windows, and the smoke escaped as best it could through crevices in the walls and roof.

In the far corner, lighted by the flickering flame of the wood fire, was the chief, lying on a bamboo bed covered with a papyrus mat, and squatting on the floor were numerous women--the hut was crowded with them--loudly talking, and freely giving their advice on the best way of curing the patient. Some suggested one particular charm, others argued in favour of certain rites and ceremonies; but all were angry with the witch (ndoki) who was regarded as the cause of all the mischief; and they were unanimous in their demand that the witch should be discovered, tried by the ordeal, and killed.

In the early hours of the morning the chief died. The female members of his family, old and young, set up a howl of rage and grief--rage because the witch had killed their chief, grief because their relative was dead. The men fired off their guns to frighten away evil spirits, to give expression to their sorrow, and to inform the spirits in the great, mysterious forest town, whence all the souls of the dead go, that a great man was coming to join them.

Upon Satu rested the responsibility of the funeral, and every detail had to be scrupulously observed, or the spirit of the deceased would trouble them as a family, and perhaps cause their extinction.