In Savage Africa / Or, The adventures of Frank Baldwin from the Gold Coast to Zanzibar.

by Verney Lovett Cameron

As soon as we were in our places Karema came out of the enclosure where his huts were, accompanied by his wives and drummers. All his followers remained outside the circle, except one man, who was to promise for him; and a fetichman, who was to perform the operation of exchanging our blood. The body, face, and arms of the fetichman were painted white, and he wore round his neck and waist great quantities of birds’ skulls, antelopes’ horns, bones, shells, and other things in which great virtue was supposed to reside.

Karema sat down on the other stool facing me, and took hold of my right hand with his left and my left with his right. Tom and Karema’s sponsor stood each behind the one he was to answer for; and the fetichman, after drawing a circle round us, stood with his arms upraised and chanted a long monotonous song, to which the people, who were sitting round, occasionally joined in chorus.

When he had finished this, a woman came into the circle and placed a large covered gourd on the ground close by us, and then withdrew. The fetichman opened the gourd, and out of it he took two large buffalo horns and some grease, leaves, and earth, which he mixed up into a sort of paste; then putting some into each horn, he stuck them in the ground between Karema’s legs and mine.

He now took a goat’s horn, into which he put a lot of small pebbles, beads, and some carved bits of wood; then shaking them up together, he let them fall on the ground and eagerly scrutinized the forms in which they fell. This he repeated several times; and as Tom kept on saying, “Bery good, bery good,” I supposed that the auguries he drew from them were favourable to me.

He next took out of the gourd a square black gin bottle full of oil, which he poured over the heads of Karema and myself. Karema seemed to enjoy this; but as the oil was rancid and highly-flavoured, I cannot say that I found this anointing very agreeable.

Next he produced a small piece of a broken plate and a little packet of gunpowder, which he mixed into a paste with some oil; then turning back my shirt and laying bare my breast, with a very sharp knife he made a smart cut over my left breast and squeezed out a few drops of blood, which Tom caught in a leaf given him for the purpose.

Karema had to suffer a similar wound, and his sponsor caught his blood on another leaf. When this had been done, the fetichman made a long speech, which was repeated by Tom and his colleague. Tom afterwards translated it to me, and it proved to be a most elaborate series of curses on Karema and myself, and all our relations and friends, if we ever did any harm to each other, or if we, being in need or danger, did not at once hasten to each other’s assistance. Indeed we should have been as well cursed as the jackdaw of Rheims if in any way we either of us failed of our mutual duties; and as I am now well and hearty, I must have always fulfilled my share.

This having been completed, the two sponsors exchanged the leaves with the blood in them, and the fetichman putting his forefinger in the leaf containing my blood, rubbed it into the cut on Karema’s chest, and then rubbed his blood into mine. He next took some of the gunpowder and oil and rubbed it over the wounds. He then put the leaves and the remainder of the blood and gunpowder into the two buffalo horns.

As soon as this was done the people gave a mighty yell, and all who were possessed of drums, horns, bells, or other instruments of noise, made the most of their powers. The din lasted for about five minutes, and on a sign from the fetichman it ceased as suddenly as it had commenced.

I supposed that now the ceremony was over, but soon found I was mistaken, as two old and wrinkled women came into the circle, one of whom carried a cocoa-nut shell and a gourd of water, and the other a square bottle of gin. From the large gourd, which seemed inexhaustible, the fetichman now drew out some roots and pieces of bark, which he cut into several small pieces and put into the cocoa-nut. Then pouring a little water on them, he stirred it up vigorously with an antelope’s horn, and filling it up with gin handed it to Karema, who took a large draught and gave it back to the fetichman. He placed it in my hands and signed that I should follow Karema’s example. I took a moderate sip, and found that it tasted very bitter, the gin burning my throat and almost taking away my breath.