In beginning the Leopard dance, one of the pair imitates a leopard sneaking around the corners of the houses; while the other one, waiting, has collected perhaps a dozen of the members as her “children,” whom she as their “mother” is to guard from the “leopard.” This teacher-mother begins a song, “Children! there is the leopard in shape of a person,” adding as a refrain the word, “Mbwero! mbwero! mbwero!” which is repeated rapidly as a warning that the leopard is coming, ending with, “my children!” They sing, and step backward and forward to a drum accompaniment. While these “children” are in great pretended excitement, the leopard is advancing slowly, steadily, and nearer from the ogwĕrina (rear of the houses) into the street, with extended tongue, and growling. When the mother sees this, her dance step grows quicker, and she backs and motions to her children behind her, they imitating all her steps. The leopard advances with a swaying step in time with the music, and then suddenly dashes forward, and catches one of the children, and sets her aside. This is kept up by the leopard till most of the children are caught, only one or two being left. The mother then seems very much exhausted, with a sad slow step; but the leopard at last catches the others. Now that her children are all dead, the mother is aroused to fury. The conflict remains between her and the leopard. And “mother” must finally kill “leopard.” The dance becomes very much more rapid; the two approach nearer and nearer. Mother has a stick like a sword, and finally she kills leopard with a light blow. This coup is received by a shout from the spectators of “o-lo-lo!”
Then another pair are selected to go through the parts of mother and leopard again. Sometimes one will refuse to act, or to be mated with the other one. Then, like a singer in civilized lands, she is met with entreaties from the crowd, “Do act! You know so well how to do it!” And then she yields. If at the last there is remaining only one teacher who has not done the act, one of those who has already performed will mate with her.
At night, the last work of the society is to put out their fire. If the leader has come from a distant village, she wants to go, and she will extinguish the fire that night; or, if she lives near, she may choose to wait several days longer. But during that time the dancing and singing are not kept up, for the society has adjourned.
Whatever else is unknown of the objects of Njĕmbĕ, it is known that it is a government. It was formerly much more powerful than it is now. At Libreville, Gabun, thirty years ago, no woman dared to speak against it. Mission school-girls, feeling themselves secure on the mission premises, sometimes in their school-girl talk foolishly made disparaging remarks about it. When this reached the ear of Njĕmbĕ, those girls would some day be caught when they were visiting their villages, and forced through the rites. Parents did not dare interfere, and missionaries had no authority to do so.
In one case, however, a missionary did make a successful interference. The girl did not belong to Mpongwe (the tribe of Gabun); she was a slave-waif that had been picked up by the mission, and therefore, in a sense, the mission’s daughter. The senior missionary, Rev. William Walker, was a tall, powerful, utterly fearless man, and his custom was always to carry a heavy cane. That day, the Njĕmbĕ lessons that were being given to the abducted girl had only begun in the village street; she had not yet been taken to their secret camp. Mr. Walker strode among the women and laid hold of the unresisting girl. When some women attempted to drag her away, he brought down his cane heavily at random over any head or shoulder within reach of his long arm; and the girl was glad to be led back to the mission. The rescue was successful. Mr. Walker’s use of force was justifiable as against Njĕmbĕ’s forcible abduction of the girl; and his parental position in the case would have justified him if the women had made any complaint against him before the local French magistrate on charge of assault.
In a somewhat similar case, more recently, Njĕmbĕ sued a missionary, he having assaulted them when they refused to remove their distressingly noisy camp from a too great proximity to the mission grounds. The magistrate dismissed the case, resenting Njĕmbĕ’s existence as a secret society, and its assumption of exercise of governmental authority.
Recently also a native man was successful in thwarting Njĕmbĕ. A certain native Christian woman had escaped being forced into Njĕmbĕ during her youth; and by her being very much in mission employ during her adult years, Njĕmbĕ had ceased to threaten her. Her daughter, of about eighteen years of age, though not a Christian, had also, by her mother’s care of her, escaped, though often threatened. A cousin of this daughter had been put through the rite while her father was away on a journey. And now this cousin was trying to induce the daughter to enter. The daughter refused, and perhaps may have made some slighting remark. This remark her cousin reported to Njĕmbĕ; and some intimations were made that the young woman would be seized. The father of the cousin had formerly been a church-member, is educated and gentlemanly. Though he had fallen away from the church, he had no desire to see his niece dragged down. He spoke severely to his daughter about the excitement she was trying to raise, and threatened to call in the aid of the French Chief of Police. The firm stand taken by him and also by the young woman’s mother was efficient in preventing her seizure by Njĕmbĕ. Both these parents are of unusual strength of character and advance in civilization. Without their efficient backing, this young woman would have been forced into Njĕmbĕ.
Rev. J. L. Wilson,[88] wrote of Njĕmbĕ almost fifty years ago: “There is no spirit, so far as is known, connected with this association, but all its proceedings are kept profoundly secret. The Njĕmbĕ make great pretensions, and as a body are really feared by the men. They pretend to detect thieves, to find out the secrets of their enemies; and in various ways they are useful to the community in which they live, or, at least, are so regarded by the people. The object of the institution originally, no doubt, was to protect the females from harsh treatment on the part of their husbands; and as their performances are always veiled in mystery, and they have acquired the reputation of performing wonders, the men are, no doubt, very much restrained by the fear and respect which they have for them as a body.”
Most of the above description is, after so many years, true now, except that the power of and respect for the society is lessened by the permeating leaven of a Christian mission and by the dominance of a foreign government; but even in that same region, in portions where these two forces are not in immediate contact with the community, Njĕmbĕ still is feared.
It is true, also, that there is no special spirit belonging to Njĕmbĕ, but when the society has occasion to investigate a theft or other crime, it invokes the usual ilâgâ and other spirits.