They remained on these terms for some time without any trouble. But as

time went on, the report about that handsome man went far, and finally

reached Ra-Mborakinda's town. Another woman lived there, also named

Ilâmbe, of the same age as the other, and she was unmarried. This Ilâmbe

said to herself, "I am tired of hearing the report about this handsome

man. I will go, though uninvited I be, and see for myself." So she tells

her brother and some of his men, "Take me over there to that town, and I

will return to-day." She told her father the same words: "I am going to

see that man, and will return." When this Ilâmbe got to the other Ilâmbe's

house, the husband was out, but the wife received her with great

hospitality; and the two sisters and their visitor all ate together. Soon

the husband came, and the wife introduced the visitor. "Here is my friend

Ilâmbe come to see you." "Good," he said. Then it was late in the day, and

the visiting Ilâmbe's attendants said to her, "The day is past; let us be

going." But she refused to go, and told them to return, saying that she

would stay awhile with her friend Ilâmbe.

But really, in her coming she was not simply a visitor and sightseer; she

intended to stay and share in the husband. As her brother was leaving, he

asked, "But when will you return? and shall we come for you?" She said,

"No; I myself will come back when I please." When the evening came, the

hostess began to fix a sleeping-place for her visitor, showing her much

kindness in the care of her arrangements.

The second day the hostess observed something suspicious in the manner

with which her husband regarded the visitor; he said to his wife, "Here is

your friend. Speak to her for me. Are you willing to do that?" She looked

at him steadily, and slowly said, "Yes." So at evening she spoke of the

matter to her visitor, who at once assented.

When Ilâmbe parted with her husband before retiring, she said to him, "Go

with this new woman, but do not forget your and my morning custom." [That

was their habit of rising very early for a morning bath.] He only said,

"Yes." They all retired for the night.

The next morning the hostess was up early as usual, and had her bath, and

was out of her room, waiting. But the man was not up yet, nor were there

any sounds of preparation in his room. So Ilâmbe, after waiting awhile,

had to call to waken him. He woke, saying, "Oh, yes, yes, I'm coming!"

The next day it was the same, he staying with the new Ilâmbe and rising

late in the morning. The fourth day his wife said to him, "You have work

to do, and you do not get up to do it till late." He was displeased at her

fault-finding. When she saw that, she also was displeased.

So when he went to the bathroom she followed him there. On the way she had

secretly taken with her the roll of black powder she had kept from the day

of his creation.

While he was bathing, she turned aside, without his noticing it, and

opening the roll of the powder, took out of it a little, and held it

between her finger and thumb.

While he was dressing, she came near, stooped down, and rubbed the powder

on his feet. They suddenly turned to hoofs. He began stamping his hoofs on

the floor, surprised, and saying, "Wife, what is this?" She said, "It is

nothing. You have finished dressing. Go out." He began to plead; she

relented, and by her ngalo's power changed the hoofs back to feet. They

both went out of the room and had their breakfast, and that day passed.

But at night he again abandoned his wife for the new Ilâmbe, and next

morning he was up later even than on the previous days. He had to be

called several times before he would awake. He began to grumble and scold,

"Can't a person be left to sleep as long as he desires?" And when he and

the new Ilâmbe came from that bedroom, she joined in the man's displeasure

at his having been disturbed. He went for his bath. The wife followed, and

used the powder as she had done the day before, turning his feet to hoofs.

He begged and pleaded. She again forgave him, and fixed the feet again.

And they two came out of the bathroom and had their breakfast as usual. He

went to his work, and the day wore on. At night he again deserted his

wife. The next morning there was the same confusion in arousing him as on

the other days.

His wife accompanied him to the bathroom as usual. While he was in the

bath, and before he was done bathing, she left the room, and told the new

Ilâmbe, "You sit down near the bathroom door. You will see him come out."

The visitor replied, "It is well"; and she sat down. And Ilâmbe went into

the bathroom again.

When the man got out of his bath, as soon as he attempted to dress

himself, Ilâmbe, without saying anything or making any complaint, went

behind him, and having the whole roll of powder with her, she opened the

bundle, flung it on his back, and said, "You go back to where you came

from!" Instantly he was changed to a mbinde, and he began to leap about as

a goat. Then Ilâmbe cried out to the other Ilâmbe at the door, "Are you

ready to receive him? He's coming!" and she opened the door. Out ran the

mbinde, leaped from the house, dashed through the town and off to the

forest, the people shouting in derision, "Hâ! hâ! hâ! So, indeed, that

handsome man was the mbinde that was taken to Ilâmbe's house!"

Then the wife said to the other Ilâmbe, "Did you see your man? Call him!

That's he running off there!" The next day Ilâmbe said to the visitor,

"Send word for your people that they may come for you."

The following day they were sent for, and they came to Ilâmbe's house.

After they had arrived, Ilâmbe sent word to her father, "Have your place

cleaned, I am coming to enter a complaint." The father replied, "Very

well!" Ompunga came and swept the place. Seats were prepared in the

street. Ilâmbe summoned the visitor and her people, saying, "Let us all go

to my father's house."

So they went there, and Ilâmbe made her complaint, telling all from the

beginning: how she obtained a husband; how the other Ilâmbe had come; how

she received her kindly; how she even had been willing to share her

husband with her, but how the new Ilâmbe had monopolized instead of simply

sharing; and how things had become so bad that she had to send the man

back to his beast origin. Turning to the visiting people, she said, "I

have nothing more to say except that your sister Ilâmbe is not going back

to your town, but has to be my slave all the days of my life."

So the king's council justified her, and pronounced the judgment just. The

people scattered to their homes. And the two sisters went to their house,

with the other Ilâmbe as their slave.

IV. THE FAIRY WIFE.

In his great town, King Ra-Mborakinda, or Ra-Nyambie, lived in glory with

all his wives and sons and daughters. Some of his great and favored sons

had large business and great wealth. But there was one of the sons, named

Nkombe, whose mother was not a favorite wife of the king, so this Nkombe

was poor. Everything went against him, and his life was quite miserable;

only, he had a gun, and he knew how to shoot; that was all. So he thought,

"I'm tired of this kind of life. I better leave and go off by myself."

He gathered together the few things that belonged to him,--a few plates

and pots, and his gun and ammunition,--and went away. He went far into the

forest, and with his machete began to clear a little place for a

camping-ground (olako).

He fixed up his camp, and next morning went out hunting. When he began to

feel hungry, he turned back to cook his food. On his return he had fresh

meat with him; this he cooked, set it on the table, and ate. After eating,

he cleared off the table, washed the dishes, brushed up the floor, and the

new meat that was left he put on the orala (drying-frame) for next day's

use. So that day's work was done.

Next day he again leaves the camp, and with his gun is off again to his

hunting. At noon he comes back with his meat,--antelope, or wild pig, or

whatever it may be. He cooks his food, eats; and that day's work is done

just as the day before.

So he did many days. After each day's work he was so tired and felt so

lonely he wished he had a mother or some one to do for him.

Unknown to him, since he had come to that olako, there was a woman named

Ilâmbe, who belonged to the awiri (fairies), who secretly had observed all

that he did. One day she thought to herself, "Oh, I am sorry for this man;

I think that as I have the power I will turn myself into a human being and

help him, for I do not like to see him suffer." So she said to herself,

"To-day I will cause Nkombe to be unsuccessful, so that he shall kill only

ntori (a big forest rat), and I will hide myself in ntori."

So Nkombe hunted long and far that day, and saw nothing worthy of being

shot. He was getting hungry, and murmured, "Ah! I have not been able to

kill anything to-day." But presently he saw ntori pass by, and he said,

"Well, I'll have to take this small animal, ntori!" He shot it, and took

it with him to his camp. When he reached the olako, as he had other meat

on the orala, and was in a hurry, after singeing and cleaning ntori, he

threw it on the orala, and took the older dried meat, and began to cook it

for his supper. He went on with his usual day's work, as it took only a

little while to arrange ntori on the orala.

Next day he went out as usual on his hunting journey. While he was away,

and before he returned, Ilâmbe had crept out of the head of ntori. She

brushed up the camp, and made everything neat and clean. She began to

cook, taking meat from the drying-frame. She cooked it very nicely, and

ate part,--her share, just enough to satisfy her appetite. Then she crept

back into ntori's head, as she knew Nkombe must be about starting back.

Late in the afternoon Nkombe returned with some wild meat. He took down

dried meat from the orala, leaving his fresh meat unattended to, for he

was in a hurry to cook, being hungry. He went to his little hut to get

plate, kettle, and so forth. To his surprise, on the table was everything

ready, food and plate and drink. He exclaimed, "What word is this? Where

did this come from? Is this the work of my mother's spirit? She has pitied

me and has come and done this. I wish I knew where she came from."

This occurred during three successive days, just the same each day. Nkombe

was puzzled. He wanted to find out, and decided to go to the great

prophet, Ra-Marânge. The prophet saw him coming, and greeted him, "Sale!

(Hail) my son, sale!" "Mbolo," replied Nkombe. Ra-Marânge continued, "What

did you come for? What are you doing?" "I come for you to make medicine,

that you may prophesy for me about a matter I want to find out."

Ra-Marânge said, "Child, I am old, and do not do such things now. I have

given the power to Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya" [so called because his body was

all-covered-by-a-disease-of-pimples]. "Well, where shall I go to him?" The

prophet replied, "He is not far."

Nkombe starts to go to Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya, who presently sees him

coming. As soon as Nkombe reached him, Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya said, "If

you come to me for medicine, good, for that is my only business; but if

for anything else, clear off!" "Yes, that is what I came for."

So Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya began to kindle his big fire. Nkombe was

surprised, not knowing what was to be done with the fire. The next minute

he sees Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya throw himself into the flames. Nkombe was

startled and afraid, thinking, "Is this man going to kill himself for me?"

The prophet rolled himself several times in the fire in order to get the

power. Some of his pimples on his body burst in the flame; and he jumped

out, ready with his power to do the medicine. He said, "Hah, repeat your

story; I am ready!" Nkombe told all his story,--how he had worked for

himself, and how for a few days past he had been helped by some one, and

wanted to know who it was, if Ogula-ya-impazya-vazya would please tell

him. "Hah, that's a small matter for me!" So the prophet told him, "You

killed ntori for yourself a few days ago, and this being is a woman who

has come to be your wife, and has hidden herself in ntori." "But," said

Nkombe, "how shall I be able to catch her, so that she shall be a real

woman, for I do not see her?"

"I'll let you know how. Go back and hunt all the same for three days. On

the fourth day go out as usual, but do not go hunting. Hide near the

olako,--near, but not where you will be seen." Then the prophet gave

Nkombe a prepared powder, and told him to keep it carefully. He gave him

also a small cornucopia (ozyoto) full of a bruised medicinal leaf, and

told him, "Go and put these two medicines in a secret place near your

olako. On the fourth day have these two medicines with you where you hide.

When you see her come out, and while she is doing your work, you will run

and seize her, and say to her, "You are my wife." She will not understand

your language, and will murmur and shake her head and resist. But when you

hold her fast, sprinkle the powder all over her body. Then take the ozoto,

and squeeze some of the juice in her nostrils, eyes, and mouth. She will

begin to sneeze. Repeat the words, 'You are my wife, my wife!' Then she

will understand you, and will yield."

So Nkombe took the medicines, and obeyed directions; hid the medicines and

hunted the three days, his heart bursting with anxiety to get the days

done that seemed so long. At last the three days were over and the fourth

day came.

Now the woman, by the power that was with her, knew all these things; she

knew she would be caught that day.

After Nkombe had left in the morning with the medicines, had hidden

himself, and was waiting for the hours to pass, the woman, hesitating on

her fate, did not come out quickly as on the other days. But finally

Nkombe saw the pieces of meat on the frames shake. And out of ntori's head

came a beautiful woman with clean soft skin. He could hardly restrain

himself. She went on with all the usual work,--cooking, and so forth. But

that day she did not divide nor partake of the food, but put all of it on

the table. When he saw she had finished, and was washing her hands

preparatory to jumping back into ntori on the orala, he came out of the

bushes, and stepping cautiously but rapidly, rushed to seize her. He

caught her. She began to resist, and he followed the prophet's directions.

The woman at first was murmuring and sobbing, and Nkombe was trying to

calm her with the words "My wife." Finally, under the powder, she quieted.

When the juice was dropped into her mouth, she was able to speak his

language. She told him all her story,--how she had pitied him, and had

entered into ntori, and everything else. "But," she said, "there is one

more thing I must tell you. I have come indeed to be your wife, and I have

the power to make you rich or poor, happy or unhappy. I will give you only

one rule: Be good to me, and I will be so to you; but never say to me that

I came from the low origin of a rat's head." Nkombe exclaimed, "No, no!

You have done so much for me, I could never so humiliate you." "You speak

well, but be very careful not to break your promise." So they ate and

finished the day's work.

Next day the woman wanted to build a town by word of her power. She said,

"Mwe [Sir] Nkombe, surely you will not live in an olako all your life.

Look for a site for a town, and mark it with stakes for its length and

width." Nkombe was puzzled. He had a wife, but where would he get

materials for a house; for he was as poor of goods as he was before? Being

troubled, he made no reply to his wife, and did not go to mark a site. At

night they retired, Nkombe still troubled about the building of a town;

but Ilâmbe was smiling in her heart, for she knew what she would do. So

she made him fall into a deep sleep. She went out at night a short

distance, and chose a good town-site. She spoke to her ngalo (a

guardian-spirit charm), "Ngalo mine, before morning I want to see all this

place cleared, and covered with nice houses, and all the houses furnished

and supplied with men and maid servants." And she returned to bed.

Before daybreak everything was ready, as Ilâmbe desired. The ngalo had

made the olako disappear, and Nkombe and wife were sleeping inside their

nice house. When morning came, Nkombe did not know where he was, nor even

on which side to get out of bed. He exclaimed, "What is this word?" "You

are in your own house and in your own town." So both went out to inspect

their town and their servants. Nkombe did not know how well to thank her,

so glad was he.

Later the wife became a mother, and a son was born. Nkombe called this

first-born Ogula. Again, a daughter was born. Then the wife told her ngalo

to bring ships of wealth. The next day ships were seen coming. Nkombe went

on board and had a conversation with the captains. They stayed a few days,

and then sailed away, leaving Nkombe a cargo of wealth. Another time ships

came, and Nkombe went off on board as before; and these ships sailed away,

also leaving wealth. Other children were born to them. Children of a fairy

mother are called "aganlo"; they grow very fast, and are very wise.

Other ships came. One day one comes, and Nkombe, having gone on board,

has there a convivial time, stays all day, and returns nearly drunk. The

wife says to him, "Nkombe, often you come from ships looking in this way,

and I do not like it. I have spoken with you often, that if a food or a

drink is not good in its effects, it is better to leave it off. But you do

not care for my words." Nkombe, under the influence of liquor, was vexed

with her, rebuked her, and began to use hard words with orâwo (insult):

"You--you--this woman who--but I won't finish it." Soon, however, he took

up the quarrel again, saying, "A person can know from your manners that

you came out of--" The wife said, "When you are drunk, you say half

sentences; why hold back? Say what you want to say."

He shouted angrily, "Yes, if I want to say it, I will say it! It was my

own ntori that I killed. If I had not killed it, would you have come out

of it?" Then Ilâmbe said, "Please repeat that; I do not quite understand

you." He repeated it. She exclaimed, "Eh!" but said no more, and waited

until morning, when he would be sober.

So early in the morning she told him to get up, so that she could do her

housework. She did the morning's work, washing things neatly but rapidly.

Then she called her sons and daughters, and in their presence said to

their father, "You said so-and-so yesterday; now I am off and with my

children."

Nkombe knew he had said the forbidden words. He pleaded for mercy; but she

replied, "No, you broke your promise." The two elder children pleaded for

their father: "It was only once. Though a bad thing, it cannot break a

marriage. Forgive it." But the mother persisted, "No!" Then the two elder

ones said they would not leave their father.

So she said to him, "Now be thankful you have these two. If it was not for

them, I would put you back where you were just as I found you; but for the

sake of these two children, I leave some of my power with them." Then to

those two she said, "You will call on me for help when you have need, and

I will be near to help you."

So she took the two younger ones, and said to their father, "As this place

is quite open, Nkombe, sit you here and see me depart." Nkombe did so. He

and the two older children watched the mother and the two younger ones

walk down the path from the town. They went to the bank of the river, and,

wading in, disappeared in the river depths.

V. THE THIEVES AND THEIR ENCHANTED HOUSE.

Ra-Mborakinda had his big town of men and women and children, all in good

condition. But a kind of plague came upon the people suddenly, killing

many. In a short time it destroyed most of the inhabitants, and finally

but few were left.

So one of the elder sons said to a younger one, "Let us flee for our

lives!" This elder brother's name was Ogula, and the younger brother's

name was Nkombe. When Ogula had thus said, "Let us flee for our lives,"

Nkombe agreed. Ogula took as his servant a boy, and together with Nkombe

they went out. They went aimlessly, not following any particular plan, but

vaguely hoping to happen on any place.

They went, went, wandering on, on, till they came to a small hut, almost

too miserable for a dwelling. But in their extremity they said, "Oh! there

is a house! Let us go to it; maybe we'll find shelter there." So they

walked up to it, and, to their surprise, saw there an old man mending a

piece of canvas.

He saluted them, and asked them where they came from. They told their

story, and Ogula asked the old man whether he would, of his kindness, give

them shelter. He said, "Yes, if you are willing to do as I tell you; for

living here is hard, and there is nothing to eat. I have to cut firewood

and carry it to the city (osenge) far away, and sell it there. That

city belongs to a big merchant."

Ogula said, "Yes; we are willing." So the next day Ogula himself and

Nkombe and their servant set themselves ready for work. After they had cut

their firewood, they asked the old man the way to the city. He directed

them. They went, sold their firewood, and brought food. This they did

many times, cutting firewood and going to the city and buying food; and

they each built a house of their own near the old man's hut.

But after a while Ogula began to tire of this kind of life; so he said to

himself, "If I only had a gun, I could go hunting. But even without the

gun, I will go out and see what I can see." So he went out alone, not

calling his brother or his servant to go with him. He went and went, on,

on, for a half-day's journey, till he happened to come to a large house

built in a very strange style, having no door at its side and with a flat

roof. The place looked clean, as if kept in order by people. He approached

cautiously; but looking around, he saw no one at all. He said to himself,

"Who owns this place? Surely some one owns it, for it is so clean; but I

see no one here. I won't leave this place to-day till I know who lives

here." He decided to retire a little and climb up a tall tree overlooking

the house and watch from there. He was very hungry, having had no food

that day, but he still decided to wait and see what was about the house.

After he had been up the tree a long while, late in the afternoon he saw a

number of men coming. He saw one of them climb up the side of the house to

the roof, where was a trap-door. All of the men had bundles of goods. The

first one who had climbed to the roof spoke a few words to the door as he

stood before it, and the two parts of the door flew open of themselves.

Then the other men climbed up with their bundles, and went into the house.

All this Ogula could see from his tree-top. He said to himself, "Now I am

hungry, and must go, for I have seen enough to-day. I see that this house

is occupied, and by men, and how they enter; it is enough for to-day." He

thought it time to move before any of the people should come out of the

house. He came down rapidly, and went back to the little hut of the old

man.

When he got to his own house, his brother Nkombe asked, "Where have you

been all day?" Ogula said, "I was tired of working, and took a walk to the

forest, and missed my way." But he did not tell his brother the story of

what he had seen.

Ogula then ate a little and went to bed, though it was not very late. He

went thus soon to bed, for he wanted to go early next day to inspect the

big house again. So, very, very early, before daylight, Ogula was up and

off, for he did not wish his brother to ask him where he was going.

He remembered the way to the big house, and went directly there. He

climbed his tree. He looked and saw that the door of the house was open.

He waited a little while, and then saw the men climbing out of the door.

Their leader was the last; he spoke a cabalistic word, pressed his foot on

the threshold, as the two sides of the door folded together, and it was

closed.

After they had been gone quite awhile, Ogula thought he would try to enter

the house, first seeking what was the way to open it. He said to himself,

"I know they have goods there, for I have seen them carried in." So he

descended from the tree, and going to the house, climbed up the side. When

he got to the top, he searched for something by which the door could be

opened. He saw nothing like a key or lock or handle. Then he remembered

the words he had heard the leader use, and thought, "Perhaps they were the

means by which the door was opened." So he uttered the words, "Yâginla

mie, kâ nungwa, aweme!" (Obey me, and thyself open!) and, to his

surprise, the door flew open. Then he went down the flight of steps

leading below to the interior of the house. He was startled when he saw

the room full of all kinds of money and goods and wealth that any one

could wish to have. One could have taken away a great deal without its

absence being noticed, so abundant was the amount.

Ogula thought, "Isn't this fine! But I must be quick, lest the owners of

this house catch me here." So he took a cloth, and put into it a few small

articles and a quantity of cash. He tied up the bundle, went up the

stairway, and walked out of the door which he had left open. At the top he

remembered the word "Nunja!" (Shut!) which the leader had used for

closing. He spoke it; and the door shut. He hasted away, and back to the

hut of the old man. He did not enter it, but went to his own house and

there hid the bundle. He told no one anything, neither the old man nor his

servant nor even his brother. Soon the brother came over from his house,

saying, "Brother! I looked for you this morning; you must have gone out

very early." "Yes, I went out early, for I am tired of seeing so little;

so I went out to see what I could see."

The next day he did the same. On this trip he took not only money from the

house, but some fine clothing for himself to wear. As before, on emerging

at the top of the house, he spoke the word "Nunja!" the door closed, and

he was away again, no one having seen him. When Ogula got back to his

house, Nkombe asked him the same question of the day before, "Where have

you been?" and he made only the evasive answer. But Nkombe began to be

troubled. He feared something was wrong, and he determined to find out

what was the matter. So he decided to get up next morning just as early as

Ogula. The reason that Ogula did not tell Nkombe was because the latter

had a bad jealous heart, and was very covetous of money. So early in the

morning Ogula was off. He did not know that Nkombe had any thought of

following him. But as soon as Nkombe saw Ogula start, he followed him

cautiously, so that he might find out what his brother was doing.

Ogula walked on straight and rapidly, and never looked behind, for he had

no suspicion that he was being followed. When he got to the house, as

usual he ordered the door to open, and descended inside. While he was

beginning to select the things he wanted to take, to his surprise he saw

Nkombe also descending the stairway. Ogula said, "Nkombe! what is this?

Who showed you the way? Who told you to come here? I am troubled to find

you here; for this will be the end of you! I knew it was not safe for you

to come here. What I took was for us both."

Nkombe said, "No! you hid it from me. I have found it now. I will be rich

for myself." By this time Ogula had tied up his bundle ready to go out.

But Nkombe was snatching up a large quantity from every side. Ogula said,

"Nkombe! be quick! You do not know how to shut that door, and it will not

be safe for us to be found here by those people." But Nkombe was not

satisfied with one bundle, he was still gathering up other bundles. Ogula

wearied of waiting and begging of Nkombe to come, so he said he must go

and leave him, saying, "Now, Nkombe, it is not safe to wait longer. I have

waited for you and begged you to leave with me; so I go alone. You cannot

get out with all those bundles."

But Nkombe would not listen. So Ogula went out, and spoke the word that

closed the door, leaving Nkombe in the house. However, being anxious for

his brother, Ogula did not go away, but climbed his tree to see what would

happen.

When Nkombe had entered the house, he had with him a big, sharp knife.

Ogula waited outside till those people should come. Soon they came. The

leader did as usual, being the first to climb to the house-top and to

order the door to open. The door flew open, and the leader descended. As

soon as he entered, he found another man, Nkombe, in the house. The leader

asked, "Who are you, and how did you get in here?" Nkombe did not reply,

but drawing his knife, plunged it into the leader's neck. With one outcry

the man fell dead. By this time some of the other men had climbed up and

were about to enter. When they got inside, they saw their leader lying

dead, and this stranger standing armed. One of the men drew his pistol and

shot Nkombe. [Observe the pistol; all these folk-lore stories disregard

anachronisms or even impossibilities.] They carried his dead body to the

roof, and threw it off to the ground. All this Ogula saw, looking from the

tree-top down into the house.

Then those people began to be perplexed and suspicious, saying, "This is

not the work of only one, for we found the door closed on our arrival. So

this person inside must have had some associate outside. How shall we find

it out?"

They began to plan, each one with his proposition. One said, "Let us go

and bury the dead body." Another, "Let us leave it and go on with our

business, and if on our return the body is missing, that will be a proof

that a partner has taken it. Then we will get on the track and find where

the body was taken." And they agreed that he whose plan proved successful

should be their new leader. So they closed the door, left Nkombe's dead

body lying, and went off on their usual business.

After they had been gone quite a while, Ogula came down quickly from the

tree. He tried to carry the body of his brother without dragging it so as

not to leave any sign of a trail. And he did not follow the path, but

walked parallel with it among the bushes. He hid the body, and then went

away to his house. He called his servant, telling him that Nkombe was

dead, and that he wanted him to come help bury the body. He did not call

the old man, but only told him that his brother was dead.

He and the servant went to the spot where he had left his brother's body.

They carried it far into the forest, buried it, and then went back to

their house.

When the thieves came again to their house, they missed the dead body, so

that part of their plan had proved true; and they said to the one who had

proposed it, "You were right. You are our leader. What is your next

order?" He said, "To-morrow we will not go out to do our business, but we

will go out to hunt for this other man."

The next day they went, and scattering searched on all paths to see

whether they would meet with some one or see some house. Some of them who

were on a certain path came to the huts of the old man and Ogula. The

first person they saw was the old man sitting in his doorway. They stopped

and saluted. They asked him a few questions, and then consulting together

agreed to return to their house and come back next day, hoping to find out

something from the old man. They went back to their house. Previous to

this, from the time that Ogula had been stealing goods he had built with

his servant a little village of his own some distance from the old man's

hut. On this first coming of the thieves, Ogula, hidden in his house, had

seen them, and he said to himself, "As they now know of this place, I

better go away, for fear this thing be found out, and they kill me as they

did my brother." So at night he left that house and went off to his

village.

In the morning of the next day, when the thieves came, they brought

liquor, for they had planned that they would make this old man drunk, that

he might talk when he was foolish with liquor.

They came to the old man's and saluted him. They sat and conversed, asking

him, "How many people are here? Are you always living alone?" At first he

replied, "Yes, I live alone." "But you are so old, how do you get your

food by yourself? Would you like to taste a nice drink? We are sorry for

you in your lack of comforts." "Yes, I would like to taste it."

So they opened their liquor, drank a little themselves, and gave to him.

After he had drunk he became talkative, and began conversation again: "Oh,

yes, you asked me if I lived alone. But not quite alone. There is a young

man here." The thieves were glad to hear him talk, and gave him more

liquor. He drank; they asked more questions, "You said there was another

man with you; where is he?" Then the old man repeated the whole story of

the coming of the brothers, to the death of one of them; and added, "A few

days ago one of them came to tell me he was going to bury his brother; but

I do not know when or how he died." So they asked the old man, "You know

where he was buried?" "No." "But where is that living brother?" "Oh, he

has just left me, and is gone to his new place not very far away. I have

not been there, but you can easily find it."

They consulted among themselves. "As this other man may hear of what we

are about, we will go away to-day, disguise ourselves, and to-morrow seek

for his place." So they all left.

Next day two or three came disguised, and found Ogula's new house in the

afternoon. He did not recognize their faces. He welcomed them as strangers

and treated them politely. They asked, "Is this your house? Do you live

alone?" He answered straightly, but did not mention his brother. But they

felt they had enough proof of who he was, and left. But before they left

they had observed the number and location of the rooms and the shape of

the house. In the house was a large public reception and sitting room, and

from it were doors leading to the servant's room and to a little entry

opening into Ogula's room.

The next day Ogula and his servant were doing their work of refining the

gum-copal they had gathered for trade; it was being boiled in an enormous

kettle. When this copal was melted, the kettle was set, with its

boiling-hot pitchy contents, in that little entry. In the afternoon came

the whole company of thieves, all disguised. They said, "We have come to

make your acquaintance, and to relieve your loneliness by an evening's

amusement." Ogula began to prepare them food. They sat at the food, eating

and drinking; had conversation, and spent the evening laughing and

playing. At night most of them pretended to be drunk and sleepy, and

stretched themselves on the floor of the large room as if in sleep.

Ogula also had been drinking, and said he was tired and would go to bed.

But his servant was sober; he saw what the men were doing, and suspected

evil. He thought: "Ah! my master is drunk, and these people are strangers.

What will happen?" So when the lights were put out and he was going to

bed, he left open the door of the little entry and locked the door of his

master's room. After midnight the thieves rose and consulted. "Let us go

and kill him." They arose and trod softly toward Ogula's room. Not quite

sober, they missed the proper way, stepped through the open door of the

little entry, and stumbled into the caldron of copal. It was still hot,

and stuck to their bodies like pitch. They were in agony, but did not dare

to cry out. They all were crawling covered with the hot gum, except the

last man, who had jumped over the bodies of those who had fallen before

him; and he ran away to their house.

But Ogula was sleeping, ignorant of what was going on.

In the morning the boy, who also had slept, on opening the house, found

the kettle full of tarred limbs of dead human bodies. He knocked at

Ogula's door and waked him. But Ogula said, "Don't disturb me, I am so

tired from last night's revel." "Yes, but get up and see what has

happened." Ogula came and saw. Then he told the lad that but for him he

would have been dead. Ogula thenceforth took him as a brother. Then he and

the boy had a big work of throwing out the bodies of the thieves. Ogula

was not afraid of a charge of murder, for the thieves had tumbled

themselves into the scalding contents of the kettle. He had enough wealth,

and did not go again to the thieves' house.

But that one man who had escaped was wishing for revenge, yet was afraid

to come to Ogula's house by himself. Time went on. Ogula remained quiet.

But his enemy still sought revenge, waiting for an opportunity.

Gradually, too, Ogula had forgotten his enemy's face; for the thieves were

many, and all disguised, and he would be unable to distinguish which one

had escaped.

On a time it happened that this thief went far to another country; and

while he was there, Ogula also happened to journey to that very town. The

lad had said, being now a young man, "May I go too?" "Yes, you may, for

you are like a brother. You must go wherever I do." On the very second day

in the town the two, Ogula and the thief, met. The thief recognized Ogula;

but Ogula did not recognize him, and neither spoke; but the young man,

with better memory, said to himself, "I have seen this man somewhere." He

looked closely, but said nothing.

The next day the thief made a feast. He met Ogula again on the street and

saluted him, "Mbolo! I am making a feast. You seem a stranger. I would

like you to come." "Yes; where?" "At such-and-such a place." "Yes, I will

come. But this attendant of mine is good, and must be invited too." "Yes,

I have no objections." Next evening the feast was held, and people came to

it. The thief placed Ogula and his servant near himself. There was much

eating and drinking. The thief became excited, and determined to kill

Ogula at the table by sticking him with a knife.

All the while that the thief was watching Ogula, the servant was watching

the thief. Presently the latter turned slightly and began to draw a knife.

The servant watched him closely. The thief's knife was out, and the

servant's knife was out too. But the thief was watching only Ogula, and

did not know what the servant was doing. Just as the thief was about to

thrust at Ogula, the servant jumped and thrust his knife into the thief's

neck. The man fell, blood flowing abundantly over the table. The guests

were alarmed, and were about to seize the servant, who pointed at the

drawn knife in the man's hand that had been intended for his master; and

then he told their whole story.

So the guests decided that there was no charge against Ogula and his

servant, and scattered. The next day Ogula and his servant left. As he

knew that that man was the last of the company of thieves, he said, in

gladness, "Now! Glory!" Then he thought, "All that wealth is mine, since

this last one who tried to take my life is dead."

As he had seen enough of the world by travel, he decided to stay in one

place. He would call people to live with him in a new town which he would

build for them around that enchanted house of the thieves, which he took

as his own with all its wealth. And he lived long in that house in great

glory, with wife and children and retainers and slaves.

VI. BANGA OF THE FIVE FACES.

Ra-Mborakinda lived in his town with his sons and daughters and his glory.

One son was Nkombe, and another Ogula, whose full name was

Ogula-keva-anlingo-n'-ogendâ (Ogula-who-goes-faster-than-water); but

they were not of the same mother.

Ogula grew up without taking any wife. He became a great man, with

knowledge of sorcery. One day his father said to him, "Ogula, as you are a

big man now, I think it is time for you to have a wife. I think you had

better choose from one of my young wives." Ogula replied, "No, I will get

a wife in my own way." So one day he went to another osenge

(clearing) of a town which belonged to a man of the awiri (spirits; plural

of "ombwiri"), _i. e._, one who possessed magic power, and obtained one of

his daughters. Her name was Ikâgu-ny'-awiri.

He brought the girl home to his father's house, where she was very much

admired as "a fine woman! a fine woman!" She was indeed very pretty. Then

Ogula said to her, "As you are now my wife, you must be orunda (set apart

from) to other men, and I will be orunda to other women, even if I go to

work at another place." And she replied, "It is well."

At another time Ogula said, "I think it better for us to move away from my

father's town, and put my house just a little way off." After the new

house was finished they moved to it, and lived by themselves. Ogula had

business elsewhere that compelled him to be often absent, returning at

times in the afternoons. Whenever Nkombe knew that Ogula was out, he would

come and annoy Ikâgu with solicitation to leave her husband and marry him.

Ogula knew of this, for he had a ngalo (a special fetich) that enabled him

to know what was going on elsewhere. The wife would say, "Ah, Nkombe! No,

I know that you are my husband's brother; but I do not want you!" Then,

when it was time for Ogula to return, Nkombe would go off. That went on

for many days; Nkombe visiting Ikâgu whenever he had opportunity, and the

wife refusing him every time. It went on so long that at last Ogula

thought that he would speak to his wife about it.

So he began to ask her, "Is everything all right? Has any one been

troubling you?" She answered, "No." He asked her again, and again she

said, "No." Thus it went on,--Nkombe coming; Ogula asking questions; and

the wife, unwilling to make trouble between the two brothers, denying.

But one day the trouble that Nkombe made the wife was so great that Ogula,

with the aid of his ngalo, thought surely she would acknowledge. But she

did not; for that day, when he came and called his wife into their

bedroom, and asked her, she only asserted weakly, "No trouble." Then he

said, "Do you think I do not know? You are a good wife to me. I know all

that has passed between you and Nkombe." And he added, "As Nkombe is

making you all this trouble, I will have to remove again far from my

father's town, and go elsewhere." So he went far away, and built a small

village for himself and wife. They put it in good order, and made the

pathway wide and clean.

But in his going far from his father's town he had unknowingly come near

to another town that belonged to another Ra-Mborakinda, who also had great

power and many sons and daughters. One of the sons also was named Ogula,

just as old and as large as this first Ogula. One day this Ogula went out

hunting with his gun. He went far, leaving his town far away, going on and

on till he saw it was late in the day and that it was time to go back.

Just as he was about returning he came to a nice clean pathway, and he

wondered, "So here are people? This fine path! who cleans it? and where

does it lead to?" So he thought he would go and see for himself; and he

started on the path. He had not gone far before he came to the house of

Ogula. There he stood, admiring the house and grounds. "A fine house! a

fine house!"

When Ogula saw Ogula 2d standing in the street, he invited him up into the

house. They asked each other a few questions, became acquainted, and made

friendship; and Ogula kept Ogula 2d for two days as his guest. Then Ogula

2d said, "They may think me lost, in town, after these two days. Thanks

for your kindness, but I had better go." And he added, "Some day I will

send for you, and you will come to visit me, that I may show you

hospitality."

Ogula 2d went back to his place. He had a sister who was a very

troublesome woman, assuming authority and giving orders like a man. Her

name was Banga-yi-baganlo-tani (Banga-of-five-faces). Though her father,

the king, and her brother were still living, she insisted on governing the

town. When any one displeased her, or she was vexed with any one, she

would order that person to lie down before a cannon and be shot to pieces.

The father was wearied of her annoyances, but did not know what to do with

her.

As Ogula 2d had left word with Ogula that he would invite him on another

day, he did so. Ogula accepted; but as the invitation was only to himself,

he did not take his wife, but went by himself, and was welcomed and

entertained.

When it was late afternoon, he was about to go back, but Ogula 2d said,

"You were so kind to me; do not go back to-day. Stay with me." And Ogula

consented.

In asking Ogula to stay, Ogula 2d thought, "As his wife is not here,

perhaps he will want another woman. I have my sister here; but if I first

offer her, it will be a shame, for he has not asked for any one" [an

actual native African custom, to give a guest a temporary wife, as one of

the usual hospitalities. The custom is not resented by the women].

All this while Ogula had not seen the sister. When they were ready for the

evening meal, Ogula 2d thought it time to call his sister to see the

guest. She fixed herself up finely, clean, and with ornaments. She came

and sat in the house, and there were the usual salutations of "Mbolo!"

"Ai, mbolo!" and some conversation.

While they were talking, Banga had her face cast down with eyes to the

ground. And when she lifted her eyes to look at Ogula, her face changed.

From the time she came in till meal-time, she made a succession of these

changes of her face, thinking that Ogula would be surprised, and would

admire the changes, and expecting that he would ask her brother for her.

She waited and waited; Ogula saw all these five changes of her face, but

was not attracted. They went to their food, and ate and finished. And

they talked on till bedtime; but Ogula had said nothing of love. Banga was

annoyed and disappointed; she went to her bed piqued and with resentful

thoughts.

The next morning Ogula said it was time to go back to his wife. When he

was getting ready to go, Banga said to him, "Have you a wife?"

He answered, "Yes." She said, "I want her to come and visit me some day."

And Ogula agreed. He went, and returning to his house, told his wife that

Banga wanted to see her.

After Ogula was gone, Banga asked her brother about Ogula's wife. "Is she

pretty?" And he told her how finely the wife had looked. Banga was not

pleased at that, was jealous, and waited till Ikâgu should come that she

might see for herself. "I will see if she is more beautiful than I with my

five countenances." Subsequently Banga chose a day, and sent for Ikâgu.

She dressed for the journey, and Ogula, not being invited, took her only

half-way.

When Ogula's wife arrived, Banga saw that it was true that she was pretty,

and of graceful carriage in her walking, and she did not wonder that her

husband was charmed with her. But she hid her jealousy, and pretended to

be pleased with her visitor. Ogula's wife did not spend the night there;

when she thought it time to go, she said good-bye, and turned to leave.

When she had gone, Banga was planning for a contest with her. She said to

herself, "Now I see why that man made me feel ashamed at his not asking

for my love,--because his wife is so beautiful. She shall see that I will

have her killed, and I shall have her husband."

So after a few days she sent word to Ogula's wife, "Prepare yourself for a

fight, and come and meet me at my father's house."

But the wife said to Ogula, "I have done nothing. What is the fight for?"

Nevertheless, she began to prepare a fighting-dress, and before it was

finished another messenger came with word, "You are waited for."

So she said, "As it is not a call for peace, I had better put on a dress

that befits blood." So she dressed in red. After she was dressed she

started, and Ogula went with her, to hear what was the ground of the

challenge.

As soon as they got to the town, they found Banga striding up and down the

street. Her cannon was already loaded, waiting to be fired. When Ogula

wanted to know what the "palaver" was, Banga said, "I do not want to talk

with you; I only want you to obey my orders."

But Ikâgu wanted to know what the trouble was, and began to ask, "What

have I done?" Banga only repeated, "I don't want any words from you; only,

you come and lie down in front of this cannon." Ikâgu obeyed, and lay

down, and Banga ordered her men to fire the cannon.

By this time Ogula, by the power of his ngalo, had changed the places of

the two women. When the cannon was fired, and the smoke had cleared away,

the people who stood by saw Ikâgu standing safe by her husband, and Banga

lying dead. All the assembled people began to wonder, "What is this? What

is this?"

So Banga's father called Ogula, and said, "Do not think I am displeased

with you at the death of my daughter; I too was wearied at her doings. So,

as you are justified, and Banga was wrong, it is no matter to be

quarrelled about."

And Ogula 2d said to Ogula, "I am not vexed at you. You had done nothing.

She wanted to bring trouble on you, and it has come on herself. I have no

fight with you. We will still be friends. But do not live off in your

forest village by yourself; come you and your wife to live in this town."

So Ogula and his wife consented, and agreed to remove, and live with Ogula

2d. And they did so without further trouble.

VII. THE TWO BROTHERS.

Ra-Mborakinda has his great town, and his wives, and his children, and the

glory of his kingdom. All his women had no children, except the loved

head-wife, Ngwe-nkonde (Mother of Queens), and the unloved Ngwe-vazya

(Mother of Skin-Disease). Each of these two had children, sons, at the

same time. The father gave them their names. Ngwe-nkonde's was Nkombe, and

Ngwe-vazya's was Ogula. Again these two women became mothers. This time

both of them had daughters. Ngwe-nkonde's was named Ngwanga, and

Ngwe-vazya's was Ilâmbe. A third time these two bore children, sons, on

the same day. These two sons grew up without names till they began to

talk, for the father had delayed to give them names. But one day he called

them to announce to them their names. What he had selected they refused,

saying that they had already named themselves. Ngwe-nkonde's child named

himself Osongo, and Ngwe-vazya's Obengi. And the father agreed.

These two children grew and loved each other very much. No one would have

thought that they belonged to different mothers, so great was the love

they had for each other. They were always seen together, and always ate at

the same place. When one happened to be out at mealtime, the other would

not eat, and would begin to cry till the absent one returned. Both were

handsome in form and feature.

When Ngwe-vazya's people heard about her nice-looking little boy, they

sent word to her, "We have heard about your children, but we have not seen

you for a long time. Come and visit us, and bring your youngest son, for

we have heard of him and want to see him."

So she went and asked permission of Ra-Mborakinda, saying that she wanted

to go and see her people. He was willing. Then she made herself ready to

start. As soon as Osongo knew that his brother Obengi was going away,

he began to cry at the thought of separation. He said, "I am not going to

stay alone. I have to go too, for I am not willing to be separated from my

brother." And Obengi said the same: "If Osongo does not go with us,

then I will not go at all." Then Ngwe-vazya thought to herself, "No, it

will not do for me to take Osongo along with me, for his mother and I are

not friendly." And she told Osongo that he must stay. But both the boys

persisted, "No, we both must go." So Ngwe-vazya said, "Well, let it be so.

I will take care of Osongo as if he were my own son." And Ra-Mborakinda

and Ngwe-nkonde were willing that Osongo should go.

So they started and went; and when they reached the town of Ngwe-vazya's

family the people were very glad to receive them. She was very attentive

to both the boys, watching them wherever they went, for they were the

beloved sons of Ra-Mborakinda. She was there at her people's town about

two months. Then she told them that it was time to return home with the

two boys. Her people assented, and began to load her and the boys with

parting presents.

They went back to Ra-Mborakinda's town, and there also their people were

glad to see them return, for the children had grown, and looked well. The

people, and even Ra-Mborakinda, praised Ngwe-vazya for having so well

cared for the children, especially the one who was not her own.

This made Ngwe-nkonde more jealous, because of the praise that

Ra-Mborakinda gave, and because of the boys' fine report of their visit

and the abundance of gifts with which Ngwe-vazya had returned. So

Ngwe-nkonde made up her mind that some day she would do the same, that she

might receive similar praise. She waited some time before she attempted to

carry out her plan. By the time that she got ready to ask leave to go the

boys had grown to be lads. One day she thought proper to ask Ra-Mborakinda

permission to go visiting with her son. Ra-Mborakinda was willing, and she

commenced her preparations.

And again confusion came because of the two lads refusing to be separated.

Osongo refused to go alone. But afterward he, knowing of his mother's

jealous disposition, changed his mind, and said to Obengi, "No, I think

you better stay." But Obengi refused, saying, "No, I have to go too."

Osongo then told him the true reason for his objecting. "I said this

because I know that my mother is not like yours. So please stay; I will

be gone only two days, and will then come and meet you." But Obengi

insisted, "If you go, I go." And Ngwe-nkonde said, "Well, let it be so; I

will take care of you both."

So they went. When they reached the town of Ngwe-nkonde's family, the

people were glad to see them. She also was apparently kind and attentive

to the lads for the first two days. On the third day she began to think

the care was troublesome. "These lads are big enough to take care of

themselves like men."

She did indeed feel kindly toward Obengi, liking his looks, and she

said to herself, "I think I will try to win his affections from his mother

to myself." She tried to do so, but the lad was not influenced by her.

When she noticed that he did not seem to care for her attentions, she was

displeased, began to hate him, and made up her mind to kill him.

All the days that the lads were there at the town they went out on

excursions to the forest, hunting animals. As soon as they came back they

would sit down together to chat and to eat sugar-cane [with African

children a substitute for candy].

Ngwe-nkonde knew of this habit. After she had decided to kill Obengi,

on the next day she had the sugar-cane ready for them. She rubbed poison

on one of the stalks, and arranged that that very piece should be the

first one that Obengi would take. He had taken only two bites, and was

chewing, when he exclaimed, "Brother, I begin to feel giddy, and my eyes

see double! Please give me some water quickly!" Water was brought to him.

He took a little of it. Others, spectators, became excited, and began to

dash water over his face. But soon he fell down dead.

Then Ngwe-Nkonde exclaimed to herself, "So I've been here only five days,

and now the lad is dead. I don't care! Let him die!"

By this time Osongo had become greatly excited, crying out, and repeating

over and over, "My brother! Oh, my brother! Oh, my same age!" His mother

said to him, "To-morrow I will have him buried, and we will start back to

our town." Osongo replied to her, "That shall not be. He shall not be

buried here. We both came together, and though he is dead, we both will go

back together." The next morning Osongo said to his mother, "I know that

you are at the bottom of this trouble. You know something about it. You

brought him. And now he is dead. I charge you with killing him." She only

replied, "I know nothing of that. We will wait, and we shall know."

They began to get ready for the return journey, and some of the people

said, "Let a coffin be made, and the body be placed there." But Osongo

said, "No, I don't want that; I have a hammock, and he shall be carried in

it." So they prepared the hammock, and placed in it the dead body.

As to Ngwe-Nkonde, Osongo had her arrested, and held as a prisoner, with

her hands tied behind her, and he took a long whip with which to drive

her. And they started on their journey.

On the way Osongo was wailing a mourning-song, and cursing his mother, and

weeping, saying, "Oh, we both came together, and he is dead! Oh, my

brother! Oh, my same age! Obengi gone! Osongo left! Oh, the children of

one father! Osongo, who belongs to Ngwe-Nkonde, left, and Obengi, who

belongs to Ngwe-Vazya, gone!" And thus they went, he repeating these

impromptu words of his song, and weeping as he went. As they were going

thus, while they were still only half-way on their route, a man,

Eserengila (tale-bearer), one of his father's servants, was out in

the forest hunting. He heard the song. Listening, he said to himself,

"Those words! What do they mean?" Listening still, he thought he

recognized Osongo's voice, and understood that one was living and the

other dead.

So he ran ahead to carry the news to the town before the corpse should

arrive there. When he reached the town, he first told his wife about it.

She advised him, "If that is so, don't go and tell this bad news to the

king; a servant like you should not be the bearer of ill news." But he

still said, "No, but I'm going to tell the father." His wife insisted,

"Do not do it! With those two beloved children, if the news be not true,

the parents will make trouble for you!" But Eserengila started to

tell, and by the time he had finished his story the company with the

corpse were near enough for the people of the town to hear all the words

of Osongo's song of mourning.

Obengi's father and mother were so excited with grief that their people

had to hold them fast as if they were prisoners, to prevent them injuring

themselves. The funeral company all went up to the king's house, and laid

down the body of his son; and Osongo's mother, still tied, was led into

the house.

The townspeople were all excited, shouting and weeping. Some began to give

directions about the making of a fine coffin. But Osongo said, "No, I

don't want him to be put into a coffin yet, because when my brother was

alive we had many confidences and secrets, and now that he is dead, I have

somewhat of a work to do before he is buried. Let the corpse wait awhile."

So he asked them all to leave the corpse alone while he went out of the

town for a short time.

Then he went away to the village of Ra-Marânge, and said to him, "I'm in

great trouble, and indeed I need your help." The prophet replied, "Child,

I am too old; I am not making medicine now. Go to Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya,

and repeat your story to him; he will help you."

Ra-Marânge showed him the way to Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya's place. He went,

and had not gone far when he found it. Going to the magician, Osongo said,

"I'm in trouble, and have come to you." As soon as he had said this,

Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya made his magic fire, and stepped into it. Osongo

was frightened, thinking, "I've come to this man, and he is about to kill

himself for me"; and he ran away. But he had not gone far, when he heard

the magician's nkendo (a witchcraft bell) ringing, and his voice calling

to him, "If you have come for medicine, come back; but if for anything

else, then run away." So Osongo returned quickly, and found that the old

magician had emerged from his fire and was waiting for him. Osongo told

his story of his brother's death, and said he wanted direction what to do.

Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya gave him medicine for a certain purpose, and told

him what to do and how to do it.

When Osongo came back with the medicine, he entered his father's house,

into the room where his brother's corpse was lying, and ordered every one

to leave him alone for a while. They all left the room. He closed the

door, and following the directions given him by Ogula-y'-impazya-vazya, he

brought Obengi to life again.

Now came a question what was to be done with Ngwe-nkonde, the attempted

murderess. It was demanded that her throat should be cut, and that her

body, weighted with stones, should be flung into the river. "For," said

Osongo, "I will not own such a mother; she is very bad. Obengi's mother

shall be my mother." It was decided so. And Ra-Mborakinda said to

Ngwe-vazya, "You step up to the queen's seat with your two sons" (meaning

Osongo and Obengi).

And Ngwe-vazya became head-wife, and was very kind and attentive to both

sons.

And the matter ended.

VIII. JEKI AND HIS OZÂZI.

Ra-Mborakinda had his town where he lived with his wives, his sons, his

daughters, and his glory.

Lord Mborakinda had his loved head-wife, Ngwe-nkonde, and the unloved one,

Ngwe-lege. Both of these, with other of his wives, had sons and

daughters. Ngwe-nkonde's first son was Nkombe, and she had two others.

Ngwe-lege also had three sons, but the eldest of these, Jeki, was

a thief. He stole everything he came across,--food, fish, and all. This

became so notorious that when people saw him approach their houses they

would begin to hide their food and goods, saying, "There comes that

thief!"

Jeki's grandfather, the father of his mother, was dead. One night, in a

dream, that grandfather came to him, and said to him, "Jeki, my son,

when will you leave off that stealing, and try to work and do other things

as others do? To-morrow morning come to me early; I have a word to say to

you." Jeki replied, "But where do you live, and how can I know the way

to that town?" He answered, "You just start at your town entrance, and go

on, and you will see the way to my place before you reach it."

So the next morning Jeki, remembering his dream, said to his mother,

"Please fix me up some food." [He did not tell her that the purpose of the

food was not simply for his breakfast, but as an extra supply for a

journey.] The food that was prepared for him was five rolls made of boiled

plantains mashed into a kind of pudding called "nkima," and tied up with

dried fish. When these were ready, he put them inside his travelling-bag.

Then he dressed himself for his journey.

His mother said, "Where are you going?" He evaded, and said, "I will be

back again." So he went away.

After he had been gone a little while, he came to a fork of the road, and

without hesitation his feet took the one leading to the right. After going

on for a while he met two people named Isakiliya, fighting, whose forms

were like sticks. [These sticks were abambo, or ghosts. In all native

folk-lore, where spirits embody themselves, they take an absurd or

singular form, that they may test the amiability or severity, as the case

may be, of human beings with whom they may meet. They bless the kind, and

curse the unkind.] He went to them to make peace, and parted them; took

out one of his rolls of nkima and fish, gave to them, and passed on. They

thanked him, and gave him a blessing, "Peace be on you, both going and

coming!" He went on and on, and then he met two Antyâ (eyes) fighting. In

the same way as with the Isakiliya, he went to them, separated them, gave

them food, was blessed, and went on his way.

Again he met in the same way two Kumu (stumps) fighting, and in the same

way he interfered between them, made peace, gave food, was blessed, and

went on his journey. He went on and on, and met with a fourth fight. This

time it was between two Poti (heads), and in the same way he made peace

between them, gave a gift, was blessed, and went on.

He journeyed and journeyed. And he came to a dividing of the way, and was

puzzled which to take. Suddenly an old woman appeared. He saluted her,

"Mbolo!" took out his last roll of nkima, and gave it to her. The old

woman thanked him, and asked him, "Where are you going?" He replied, "I'm

on my way to an old man, but am a little uncertain as to my way." She

said, "Oh, joy! I know him. I know the way. His name is

Re-ve-nla-gâ-li." She showed him the way, pronounced a blessing on

him, and he passed on. He had not gone much farther when he came to the

place.

When the old grandfather saw him, he greeted him, "Have you come, son?" He

answered, "Yes."

"Well," said the grandfather, "I just live here by myself, and do my work

myself." And the old man made food for him. Then next day this grandfather

began to have a talk with Jeki. He rebuked him for his habit of

stealing. Jeki replied, "But, grandfather, what can I do? I have no

work nor any money. Even if I try to leave off stealing, I cannot. I do

not know what medicine will cause me to leave it off." Then said the

grandfather, "Well, child, I will make the medicine for you before you go

back to your mother." So Jeki remained a few days with his grandfather,

and then said, "I wish to go back." The grandfather said, "Yes, but I have

some little work for you to do before you leave." So Jeki said, "Good!

let me have the work."

The grandfather gave him an axe, and told him to go and cut firewood

sufficient to fill the small woodshed. Jeki did so, filling the shed in

that one day. The regular occupation of the old man was the twisting of

ropes for the lines of seines. So the next day he told Jeki to go and

get the inner barks, whose fibre was used in his rope-making. Jeki went

to the forest, gathered this material, and returned with it to the old

man.

The next day the grandfather said to Jeki, "Now I am ready to start you

off on your journey." And he added, "As you gave as reasons for stealing

that you had neither money nor the means of getting it, I will provide

that." Then the old man called him, took him to a brook-side, and reminded

him that he had promised that he could make a medicine to cure him of his

desire to steal.

The grandfather began to cut open Jeki's chest, and took out his heart,

washed it all clean, and put it back again. Then they went back to the

grandfather's house. There he gave Jeki an ozâzi (wooden pestle), and

said, "Now, son, take this. This is your wealth. Everything that you wish,

this will bring to you. Hold it up, express your wish, and you will get

it. But there is one orunda (taboo) connected with it: no one must

pronounce the word 'salt' in your hearing. You may see and use salt, but

may not speak its name nor hear it spoken, for if you do things will turn

out bad for you." "But," the old man added, "if that happens, I will now

tell you what to do." And he revealed to him a secret, and gave him full

directions. When the grandfather had finished, he led him a short distance

on the way, and returned to his house. He had not prepared any food for

Jeki for the journey, for he with the ozâzi would himself be able to

supply all his own wishes.

Jeki goes on and on, and then exclaims doubtfully, "Ah, only this ozâzi

is to furnish me with everything! I'm getting hungry; so, soon I'll try

its power." He went on a little farther, and then decided that he would

try whether he could get anything by means of the ozâzi. So he held it up,

and said, "I wish a table of food to be spread for me, with two white men

to eat with me." Instantly there was seen a tent, and table covered with

food, and two white men sitting. He sat down with these two companions.

After they had eaten, he spoke to the ozâzi to cause the tent and its

contents to disappear. They did so. This proved for him the power of his

ozâzi, and he was glad, and went on his way satisfied.

Finally he reached his father's town, whose people saw him coming, but

gave him no welcome, except his mother, who was glad to see him. But most

of the people only said, "There! there is that thief coming again. We

must begin to hide our things." After Jeki's arrival, in a few days,

the townspeople noticed a change in him, and inquired of each other, "Has

he been stealing, or has he really changed?" for shortly after his return

he had told his mother and brothers all the news, and had warned the

people of the town about the orunda of "salt." In the course of a few days

Jeki did many wonderful things with his ozâzi. He wished for nice

little premises of his own with houses and conveniences, near his father's

town, supplied with servants and clothing and furniture. These appeared.

Soon, by the wealth that he possessed, he became master of the town, and

ruled over the other children of his father. He obtained from that same

ozâzi, created by its power, two wives,--Ngwanga and Ilâmbe, who were

loving and obedient. He also bought three other wives from the village,

who were like servants to the two chief ones. He confided his plans and

everything to the two favored ones who had come out of the ozâzi.

In the course of time he thought he would display his power before the

people, and for their benefit, by causing ships to come with wealth. So he

held up the ozâzi, and said, "I want to see a ship come full of

merchandise!"

Presently the townspeople began to shout, "A ship! a ship!" It anchored.

Jeki called his own brothers and half-brothers, and directed, "You all

get ready and go out to the ship, and tell the captain that I will follow

you." They made ready, and went on board, and asked, "What goods have you

brought?" The captain told them, "Mostly cloth, and a few other things."

They informed him, "Soon the chief of the town will come." And they

returned ashore, and reported to Jeki what was on board. He made

himself ready and went, leaving word for them to follow soon and discharge

the cargo. The ship lay there a few days, and then sailed away. Then

Jeki divided the goods among his brothers and parents, keeping only a

small share for himself.

Thus it went on: every few months Jeki ordering a ship to come with

goods. As usual, he would send his brothers first, they would bring a

report, and then he would go on board. Sometimes he would eat with the

ship's company, sometimes he would invite them ashore to eat in his own

house.

All this time no one had broken the orunda of "salt." But, to prove

things, Jeki thought he would try his half-brothers, and see what were

their real feelings toward him. So the next time he caused ships to come

with a cargo of salt only. At sight of the ships there was the usual shout

of "A ship! a ship!" The brothers went aboard as usual, and found what the

cargo was. The half-brothers returned ashore immediately, and began to

shout when they neared Jeki's house, "The ships are full of salt!" He

heard the word, and said to his mother and to his two chief wives, "Do you

hear that?"

The half-brothers came close to him, and exclaimed, "Dâgula [Sir], the

ships are loaded with nothing but salt, salt, salt, and the captain is

waiting for you." Jeki asked again, as if he had not heard, "What is it

the captains have brought?" And they said, "Salt." So he said, "Let it be

so. To-day is the day. Good! You go and get ready, and I will get ready,

and we shall all go together."

Then the two chief wives looked very sorrowful, for they felt sure by his

look and tone that something bad was about to happen.

First he ordered a bath to be prepared for himself. It was made ready, and

he bathed, and went to dress himself in the other room, where his goods

were stored. When he had entered, he called his own two brothers and the

two wives, and closed the door. He began to examine a few of his boxes.

Opening a certain one, he said, "Of all my wealth, this was one of the

first. Now I am going to die. But as it is always the custom, a few days

after the funeral, to decide who shall be the successor and inheritor,

when that day arrives, come and open this particular box. Do not forget to

take the cloth for covering the throne of my successor from this box."

Inside of that box was a small casket, holding a large black silk

handkerchief. He kept the secret received from his grandfather, and did

not tell them what would happen when they should come to get cloth from

the box. They understood only that on the throne-day they were to open the

big box and the little casket it contained. Then he told them, "Now you

may go out." They went out. Jeki shut the door, and began to dress for

the ships. But, before dressing, he took out the black silk handkerchief

from the small box, and rubbed it over his entire body; and, carefully

folding it, put it back again in the casket and closed it. Then he was

ready to start. And they all went off to the ships, he with the ozâzi in

hand. He, with his own brothers, was in a boat following the boat of his

half-brothers.

He raised a death-song, "Ilendo! Ilendo! give me skill for a dance!

Ilendo! Ilendo! give me skill for a play!" This he sang on the way,

jumping from boat to boat. He said he would go on board the ships, but

ordered all his brothers not to come. His plan was that they were to be

only witnesses of his death. He boarded one of the ships, and went over

the deck singing and dancing with that same Ilendo song. Then he jumped to

the deck of the next vessel.

As he did so, the first one sank instantly. On the second ship he sang and

danced, and jumped thence to the third, the second sinking as the first.

On the third ship he continued the song and dance; he remained on it a

long while, for he caused it to sink slowly. When the water reached the

vessel's deck, the brothers in the boats were looking on with fear. His

own brothers began to cry, seeing the ship sinking, for they knew that

Jeki would die with it. When it sank, the boats went ashore wailing,

and took the news to the town.

But the half-brothers were not really mourning; they were planning the

division of Jeki's property. All the town held the kwedi (mourning);

but after the fifth day the half-brothers told their father that it was

time for the exaltation of a successor to Jeki, the ceremony of ampenda

(glories). Ngwe-nkonde's first-born son, Nkombe, said, "I will be the

first to stand on the throne, and my two brothers will be next." Jeki's

two brothers refused to have anything to say about the division. They

determined they would remain quiet and see what would be done. And the two

wives of Jeki said the same.

When the half-brothers came to the house of mourning, they began to

discuss which of these two women they would inherit. Then one of the two

wives said, "Oh, Ngwanga, we must not forget what Jeki told us about

the box, now that the people are fixing for the ampenda!"

So the two brothers of Jeki and the two women went inside the room,

shut the door, and began to open the big box to take out the little

casket. By this time the people outside had everything ready for the

ceremony of the ampenda. The two women now opened the casket, took out the

black handkerchief, and unfolded it. And Jeki stood in the middle of

the room, with his ozâzi in his hand. Their surprise was great; their joy

extreme. In their joy they ran to embrace him.

The people outside were very busy with their arrangements. Nkombe already

had taken the throne, having painted his face with the little white mark

of rule, and given orders to have the signal-drum beaten; and the crowd

began to dance and sing to his praise.

Jeki sent his youngest brother, Oraniga (last-born), saying, "Just go

privately and tell my father about me, that I have come to life. And I

want him to have the whole town swept, and to lay bars of iron along the

streets for me to step on from this house to his. Say also that

Ntyege (monkey) must continue his firing of guns and cannon; then I

will come and meet my father."

Oraniga did so; and the father said, "Good!" and Oraniga returned. The

father gave the desired orders about the sweeping and the iron bars and

the firing of cannon; but the people at the throne-house did not know of

all this.

Then Jeki and his two wives and two brothers dressed themselves finely

to walk to the father's house, and marched in procession through the

street. A few of the people saw them, wondered, and asked the drums to

stop, exclaiming, "Where did they come from?" The procession went on to

the father's house, and Ntyege kept on with the cannon firing.

On reaching his father's house, Jeki told him he had something to say,

and the father ordered the drum to cease. All the people were summoned to

the father's house to hear Jeki's words. He said, "Father, I know that

I am your son, and Nkombe is your son. You all know what Nkombe has done,

for he was at the bottom of this matter; so now choose between him and me.

If you love him more, I will go far away and stay by myself; but if you

love me, Nkombe must be removed from this town."

So the father asked the opinion of others. (For himself, he wanted to have

Jeki.) Nkombe's own brothers said he ought to be killed, "for he is not

so good to us as Jeki was." So they bound Nkombe, and tied a stone

about his neck, and drowned him in the sea.

And everything went on well, Jeki governing, and providing for the

town.

GLOSSARY

A.

Abuna, abundance.

Aganlo, children of mixed mortal and fairy birth.

Akazya, a poisonous tree.

Amie, do not know.

Anlingo, water.

Antyâ (sing. intyâ), eyes.

Anyambe, the Divine Name.

Aweme, yourself.

Ayenwe, unseen.

B.

Bâbâkâ, consent thou.

Behu, kitchen garden.

Benda, a kind of rat.

Biañ, medicine.

Bobâbu, soft.

Bohamba, a certain medicinal tree.

Boka, a certain medicinal tree.

Bokadi, a certain medicinal tree.

Bokuda, a certain medicinal tree.

Bolondo, a poisonous tree.

Bongâm, a certain medicinal tree.

Botombaka, passing away.

Buhwa, day.

Bwanga, medicine.

D.

Dâgula, Mr., a title of respect.

Diba, marriage.

Diyâ, the hearth; a household.

Diyaka, to live.

E.

Ebâbi, a male love philtre.

Egona, a small antelope horn.

Ehongo, a cornucopia.

Ekongi, a guardian-spirit fetich.

Ekope, a girdle.

Elâmbâ, a certain medicinal tree.

Elinga, a basket.

Etomba, tribe.

Evove, harlot.

Ewiria, words of hidden meaning.

F.

Fufu, mashed, boiled ripe plantains.

G.

Go, to, in, at.

Greegree (gris-gris), fetich amulet.

Gumbo, okra.

Gwandere, a medicine for worms.

H.

Haye, will not do.

Hume, a certain fish.

I.

Ibambo (pl. abambo), ghosts.

Ibâtâ, a blessing.

Iga, the forest.

Iguga, woe.

Iheli, a gazelle.

Ijawe (pl. majawe), blood relative.

Ikaka (pl. makaka), family name.

Ilala, an arch; a stairway.

Ilina (pl. malina), soul.

Ina, my mother.

Ininla (pl. anlinla), soul.

Injenji, a certain leaf; fault.

Isakiliya, kindling-wood.

Isiki (pl. asiki), a dwarf changeling.

Itaka, a kitchen hanging-shelf.

Itala, a view.

Ivaha, a wish.

Ivenda (pl. ampenda), glory.

Iyele, a female love philtre.

J.

Ja, of.

Jaka, to beget.

Joba, the sun.

Jomba, meat cooked in a bundle of plantain leaves.

Juju, an amulet.

K.

Kâ, and you.

Kasa, a lash.

Keva, to surpass.

Kilinga, a kind of bird.

Kimbwa-mbenje, native bark-cloth.

Kna, a kind of bird.

Knakna, a large kind of bird.

Koka, a large kind of bird.

Kombo, a superstitious ejaculation.

Konde, queen.

Kota, a certain tree.

Kulu, a kind of spirit.

Kumu, a stump.

Kwedi, time of mourning.

L.

Lale, my father.

M.

Mabili, an east-wind fetich.

Mba, not I.

Mbenda, ground-nut.

Mbi, I.

Mbinde, a wild goat.

Mbolo, gray hairs; a salutation.

Mbulu, a wild dog.

Mbumbu, rainbow.

Mbundu, poison ordeal.

Mbwa (pl. imbwa), dog.

Mbwaye, a poison test.

Mehole, ripe plantains.

Miba, water.

Mie, me.

Monda, witchcraft medicine.

Mondi (pl. myondi), a class of spirits.

Mpazya, skin disease.

Mulimate, a small horn for cupping.

Musimo, spirits of the dead.

Muskwa, a medicinal brush.

Mutira, a medicinal stick.

Mvia, a kind of bird.

Mwana, a child.

Mwanga, a plantation.

N.

Na, with.

Ndabo, house.

Ndembe, young.

Nduma, a kind of snake.

Ngalo, a guardian-spirit charm.

Ngâma, a water plant.

Ngândâ, gourd seeds.

Ngânde, moon.

Ngofu, an iron fetich bracelet.

Ngunye, a flying-squirrel.

Nguwu, hippopotamus.

Ngwe, mother.

Njabi, a wild oily fruit.

Njegâ, leopard.

Nkâlâ, a large snail.

Nkânjâ, a marriage dance.

Nkendo, a magician's bell.

Nkinda (pl. sinkinda), a class of spirits.

Nsânâ, Sunday.

Nsinsim, a shadow.

Ntori, a large forest rat.

Ntyege, a monkey.

Nungwa, open thou.

Nunja, shut thou.

Nyamba, a scarf slung over the right shoulder, in which to carry a babe.

Nyemba, witchcraft.

Nyolo, body.

O.

Odika, kernel of the wild mango.

Oganga, doctor.

Ogendâ, a journey.

Ogwerina, rear of a house.

Okove, a powerful fetich.

Okume, African mahogany tree.

Okundu, a kind of fetich for trading.

Olâgâ (pl. ilâgâ), a class of spirits.

Olako, a camping place.

Ombwiri (pl. awiri), a class of spirits.

Ompunga, wind.

Orala, a hanging shelf over a fireplace.

Oraniga, last-born.

Orâwo, insult.

Orega, the Njembe secret society drum.

Orunda, a prohibition; taboo.

Osenge, a cleared place in the forest.

Ovâvi (pl. ivâvi), messenger.

Owavi (pl. sijavi), a leaf.

Ozyâzi, a pestle.

Ozyoto, a cornucopia.

P.

Paia, my father.

Pavo, a knife.

Peke, ever.

R.

Rera, my father.

S.

Saba, an oath.

Sabali, an oath.

Sale, hail!

T.

Tamba, the womb.

Tube, a certain leaf.

Tuwaka, bless; spit

U.

Udinge, a great person.

Ukuku (pl. mekuku), spirit; secret society.

Ukwala, a machete.

Untyanya, a medicinal bark.

Unyongo, a medicinal tree.

Upuma, a period of six months.

Utodu, old.

Uvengwa, a phantom.

V.

Veya, fire.

Y.

Yâginla, _imperative_, hear thou.

Yâkâ, a family fetich.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Gen. xxx. 15-16.

[2] Gen. xxix. 26.

[3] Trumbull, Blood Covenant, p. 311.

[4] Trumbull, Blood Covenant, p. 4.

[5] Garenganze, p. 79.

[6] Rom. i. 28, margin.

[7] Rom. i. 30.

[8] Three Years in Savage Africa, p. 74.

[9] Western Africa, p. 209.

[10] I am strongly disposed to think that, in its origin, there was a

sacrificial idea connected with cannibalism.--R. H. N.

[11] Gen. iv. 2.

[12] Gen. iv. 17.

[13] Gen. iv. 21, 22.

[14] Heb. xi. 4.

[15] Gen. iii. 21.

[16] Joshua xxii. 34.

[17] John xx. 29.

[18] 1 Sam. vi. 3.

[19] Dan. iii. 29.

[20] History of Religion, pp. 129 _et seq._

[21] Western Africa, p. 207.

[22] Wilson.

[23] Crowned in Palmland, p. 234.

[24] Declè.

[25] J. L. Wilson.

[26] J. L. Wilson.

[27] Declè.

[28] Wilson, Western Africa.

[29] Menzies, History of Religion, p. 33.

[30] Wilson, Western Africa, p. 212.

[31] Garenganze, p. 237.

[32] Menzies, History of Religion, p. 73.

[33] Those nails were not mere "ornaments." They were the records of the

number of persons who had been transfixed by death or disease under the

power of that fetich idol. A similar custom is known in the West Indies

and in the southern United States. For every pin stuck into a wax figure

intended to represent the person to be injured, some sickness or other

evil will fall on him. Wilkie Collins also utilized this superstition in

his novel, "I say, No."--R. H. N.

[34] Declè.

[35] History of Religion, pp. 65, 69.

[36] Garenganze, p. 77.

[37] Three Years in Savage Africa.

[38] I saw the same on the Ogowe.--R. H. N.

[39] These piles I have found at almost every village I have visited.--R.

H. N.

[40] Declè, p. 346.

[41] Menzies.

[42] Declè.

[43] Hosea xiii. 2.

[44] Acts xv. 29.

[45] Brown, On the South African Frontier, p. 113.

[46] Arnot, Garenganze, p. 106.

[47] This would be what I have denominated the "white art."--R. H. N.

[48] In that part of Africa.--R. H. N.

[49] Really, only a difference in administration.--R. H. N.

[50] Declè, Three Years in Savage Africa, pp. 152, 154, 294.

[51] Arnot, Garenganze, p. 115.

[52] And, similarly, I have known the fimbriated extremities of the

fallopian tubes in a woman held up as a proof of her having been a witch.

The ciliary movements of these fimbriæ were regarded as the efforts of her

"familiar" at a process of eating. The decision was that she had been

"eaten" to death by her own offended familiar.--R. H. N.

[53] Wilson, Western Africa, p. 398.

[54] Brown, On the South African Frontier.

[55] Ex. xxii. 18.

[56] I Sam. xxvii. 11-15.

[57] Verse 12.

[58] Wilson, Western Africa, p. 275.

[59] Wilson, Western Africa, p. 393.

[60] Ibid.

[61] Wilson, Western Africa.

[62] To a native African that is a much greater wrong than stealing from

other people, particularly from foreigners.--R. H. N.

[63] On the South African Frontier, p. 214.

[64] Garenganze, p. 207.

[65] Arnot.

[66] Brown, On the South African Frontier.

[67] Tale 23, p. 93, my "Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Fjort."

[68] Arnot.

[69] Declè.

[70] See "Niger and Yoruba Notes."

[71] From a West African newspaper.

[72] Menzies, History of Religion, p. 71.

[73] See an illustration of it on p. 102 of my "Crowned in Palm-Land"; an

infant is lying on a plantain leaf in the street.

[74] Wilson, Western Africa.

[75] Declè.

[76] Among Cannibals, pp. 278-279.

[77] Arnot, Garenganze, p. 116.

[78] Declè, Three Years in Savage Africa, pp. 74-79.

[79] Declè.

[80] Arnot, p. 76.

[81] Three Years in Savage Africa, p. 512.

[82] Wilson.

[83] P. 513.

[84] I know of its occurring on the Gabun and Ogowe rivers on the West

Coast.--R. H. N.

[85] P. 107.

[86] P. 115.

[87] Trumbull, p. 129.

[88] Western Africa, p. 397.

[89] Wilson, Western Africa.

[90] Garenganze, p. 107.

[91] Niger and Yoruba Notes.

[92] Wilson.

Transcriber's Notes:

Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_.

The original text contains letters with diacritical marks that are not

represented in this text version.

End of Project Gutenberg's Fetichism in West Africa, by Robert Hamill Nassau