The one female image that was under the eaves of the house in which I slept was for guarding their families; but the three sets of twins were to prevent their mothers from becoming barren.
Part iii. THE RIGHT OF SANCTUARY.
(It was an ancient and universal custom that a refugee, by clasping the knees of the king of any other tribe, could claim his protection. The king was bound to accept the claim. The obligation he thus assumed was sacred.)
While Adova was there at Shekyani country, visiting Ogwedembe, there came to him an Orungu man with a little slave boy, carrying a box. As soon as they entered the town, both of them came to Ogwedembe, and kneeling and clasping his feet, claimed his protection, and promised voluntarily to be under his authority.
The old chief, without asking the cause of their flight or their reason for coming to him, assented, and summoned the town to make the Ukuku (Spirit-Society of Law) ceremony of installing the man and his slave boy as members of their Shekyani tribe.
Adova and her husband were very kind to this adopted “brother,” and he at once became exceedingly intimate with them.
At night this new man had been assigned to the house occupied by Ogwedembe, in a room near him, so that he could watch him that he should not run away, now that he belonged to Ukuku. But it was not known that this man possessed all the power of nyemba (sorcery). Ogwedembe also had power for fighting, and a certain amount of knowledge that warned him not to be deceived by sorcerers.
After two days, on the third night, this man rose, and tried to go to Ogwedembe’s room, to put some witchcraft medicine on him. But Ogwedembe saw him coming, rose, seized his staff, walked toward the man in the darkness, and struck him violently on the head. The man fell. But neither of them uttered any word, nor made any outcry.
Very early in the morning Ogwedembe got up, went out, and sat on the veranda of his house. He called to Adova, “Come, I want to tell you something.” She came, and he said, “I had a bad dream last night. If any one comes to you to-day to ask you to make medicine for a sore head, do not do it.” “Who is it?” she asked. He refused. “No, I will not tell you. But I know that before to-day is over some one will come to you, but do not help him.”
The Orungu got up late that day and looked and felt dull. When he left his room, he sent his boy to call Adova. The boy went. She came to him. He said, “Can’t you find medicine for a headache? I did not sleep well. My head pains too much.” She said, “I do not know a medicine for that kind of headache.” The old chief was sitting near, and, looking significantly at the Orungu, said to Adova, “Yes, that is right.”