In his favourite seat by the door of his hut sat Zalu Zako waiting as
patiently as only a native can to see the white man, symbol of a
subconscious hope. The fact that Bakuma had not been found by the
emissaries of the bloodthirsty Bakahenzie evoked a sensation of pleasure
which was expressed merely in a feeling of well-being. Of her in person he
thought consciously little; his attitude was much as a white lover who
might discover his loved one to be a sister, and hence, by consanguinity,
barred from him for ever, a terrible fact of fate; but, lacking the
sentimental inhibition, Zalu Zako did not disguise the death wish because
she was denied him. Desires are simpler in the savage, yet the driving
motives are the same as in the “cultured” ex-animal overlaid with
generations of inhibitions—tabus—which form complex strata making the
truth more and more difficult to recognise. From that very obfuscation of
motives arises civilisation.
Then from the blue depths of the humid green came a great outcry, answered
by the ululation of the women in warning.
“Eyes-in-the-hands!” grunted Zalu Zako, voicing the perpetual fear of the
camp, as he leaped for his gun which Moonspirit had sent him.
Above the medley of sounds arose an articulate shout:
“He has bewitched our souls! He has bewitched our souls!”
Zalu Zako paused and listened; replaced the gun and squatted, resuming his
pose of dignity before the first man made entrance. For a few moments the
shrilling of the women and the wild jabber continued. Then entered a slave
followed by a warrior who, excitedly falling upon his knees, gasped out:
“He hath bewitched our souls! He hath bewitched our souls! Our spears were
blunted by his magic! Our swords were turned by the wall of his soul! He
is a mighty magician!”
“Of whom speakest thou, fool?”
As Zalu Zako put the question the tall figure of Bakahenzie stalked slowly
into the courtyard. The warrior rose and fled at a command from Zalu Zako.
Bakahenzie greeted him gravely and very elaborately took snuff in order to
show how casual the matter was. When he had meticulously restored the cork
of twisted leaves, he announced slowly:
“As I have prophesied the breaking of the sacred circle has delivered us
into the hands of the false magician, Eyes-in-the-hands. The daughter of
Bakala is even now at the camp of the white man, whom they call
Moonspirit.”
“Ehh!” commented Zalu Zako.
“The brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath taken her in concubinage,”
continued Bakahenzie.
Zalu Zako made no response. Grimly approached Marufa and squatted beside
them.
“Even as I have prophesied,” commented Marufa, who never failed to seize
an opportunity of suggestion.
“I bade him render up the Bride of the Banana; but she hath bitten his
soul in his sleep. He held her in his arms. He breathed upon her so that
she would not obey. The magic of this brother of Eyes-in-the-hands hath
indeed rotted the livers of our people, for they fled like young jackals.”
“Eh!”
Zalu Zako stared cautiously at the compound fence; Marufa regarded
Bakahenzie’s left knee with interest. For fully five minutes no word was
said. Then Bakahenzie portentously:
“Tarum demands the brother of Eyes-in-the-hands, this Moonspirit, for if
one be taken then will the other, Eyes-in-the-hands, wither away and the
Unmentionable One will be revealed.”
“Thou hast spoken!” assented Marufa.
But Zalu Zako continued to stare blankly at the fence. His mind was aflame
for Bakuma. Bakahenzie had no suspicion of his passion, yet the fear of
his enmity acted like a douche of water in spite of the fact that the
implicit faith in the doctors had been weakened. But disbelief was not
positive enough to stimulate action. However, from the news of Bakuma’s
proximity, he had gotten strength to doubt the efficacy of Bakuma’s
sacrifice to restore the kingdom, a strength which prompted him to say:
“Who is he that has said that Moonspirit be the twin of Eyes-in-the-hands?
Enemies there are even among whites. If he be an enemy of
Eyes-in-the-hands and he be a great magician, as they say, then through
his magic may not Eyes-in-the-hands be slain?”
“He hath but young words,” asserted Bakahenzie stonily.
“But Mungongo, the son of Marula, saith that——”
“Dost thou ask an infant to teach thee to hunt?” retorted Bakahenzie.
“Doth a warrior ask his women to mend his wounds?” added Marufa, putting
in a gentle reminder that Zalu Zako was merely a chief and not of the
craft.
“He hath been exorcised, let him be brought and put to the test before
me,” persisted Zalu Zako.
“That may not be,” objected Bakahenzie, “for thou art not yet anointed.”
“But that which is necessary has not yet been done,” objected Zalu Zako
obstinately. “If he have no magic and his heart be not white, then let him
be doomed for the Feast of the Moon.” And gaining courage, added the royal
phrase: “I have spoken.”
The three sat motionless. The silence twittered and hummed. The shadows
swelled. Bakahenzie rose slowly and stalked away through the compound.
Zalu Zako watched his departure without remark or expression. After an
interval, Marufa also went.
Another person upon whom the news of the discovery had had a similar
reaction was MYalu. Her proximity released the primitive desire to go
forth and seize her. But such action was arrested by fear of the
consequences from his fellows to whom the tabu was still real, and of the
white man, Moonspirit. MYalu could never overcome the fiat of the
witch-doctors while he remained with them. Yonder—his decision to go with
Yabolo and Sakamata was clinched, but—he would take Bakuma with him.
Straight to the hut of Bakahenzie, who seemed to be expecting him, stalked
Marufa. Marufa squatted solemnly near to him. These catastrophic events
had caused a general unrest which had weakened the discipline of
superstition.
There are two types of magicians: those who are partially conscious
hypocrites, and those who are gulled by their own fakes; for he who makes
magic must be ever ready with an explanation of failure and very ingenious
in the making. The fool, believing in his own medicine, is as much
astounded at failure as the victim is angry. Bakahenzie and Marufa
belonged to the first class; yet being of their particular mental
development they were possessed of beliefs just as deeply as the most
credulous layman. That the wizard, personally, of his own individual power
could slay an enemy by incantation they did not believe; but that the
spirit of the Banana or of other inanimate objects could do so, they
believed most profoundly. Their creed was a form of pure animism; the
storms, the winds, the lightning, trees, rocks, rivers had separate and
conscious souls; other inanimate objects not included in an arbitrary
list, had unconscious souls, each and every one capable of doing mischief
or of good; hence the essence of religion in the act of imploring the good
offices of the most powerful spirits, or in moments of exasperation of
threatening them with dire punishments. Their hypocrisy lay not in
disbelief but in pretending to the people that their intercession with the
gods was infallible; they knew only too well that the said gods would
seldom incline an ear to the magician.
Of course nearly every doctor had a slightly different dogma, usually
based upon an incorrect deduction from a false premise. One doctor would
place all his confidence in the spirit of the Banana—the most popular
spirit; and another in the spirit of the river, because out of a dozen
times that he had implored aid, five “miracles” at least had been
vouchsafed, therefore, argued he, the spirit of the river is the true and
most powerful god. The arguments of others were equally unsound as they
were dominated by some hidden desire, much as reputable scientists, while
rejecting phenomena accepted by the populace, cling fatuously to a belief
in spooks in order to satisfy a subconscious desire for immortality, fear
of death.
Hence the confusion in the heart of Bakahenzie. To him it appeared that
the spirits had deserted him entirely; to him it seemed that perhaps these
white men had indeed the true “magic,” the art of controlling the spirits
to their will. This terror had urged him to the destruction of the white
man, Moonspirit. Now Zalu Zako had mutinied, and being unaware of the
powerful impulse from which Zalu Zako had gotten this sudden strength,
Bakahenzie attributed it to the magic influence of Moonspirit. At any
cost, he argued, must Zalu Zako and the white man be kept apart.
But other pressing points were how to accomplish the slaughter of the
white man, and what he should do now after the attempt to kill him had
failed. Either Moonspirit would flee, which would be most happy proof to
Bakahenzie that he was an impostor and no magician, or he would seek
revenge immediately. No other action was conceivable to Bakahenzie.
Therefore in such a case the obvious act was to strike the quicker. He
contemplated his colleague without looking at him. What was his attitude?
Bakahenzie, on general principles, was suspicious. If Marufa thought that
by supporting the white man he might be able to attain Bakahenzie’s
overthrow and gain the position of chief witch-doctor, he would do it,
even as he, Bakahenzie, would have done in his place. Therefore upon these
matters did he talk very guardedly with Marufa, who was unusually
reticent. However, after communing with himself in sphinx-like gravity,
Marufa assented to the proposal that Zalu Zako be isolated in the godhood
immediately.
So the slow rhythmic beat, which was the summons to the craft to assemble,
throbbed in the clammy air. Before the humid shadows had lengthened a
hand’s breadth, were some twenty wizards, greater and lesser, fully
dressed in the green feathers of the order, collected within the compound
of Bakahenzie. Silently and woodenly they squatted in a half circle before
the chief witch-doctor, each and every one excited by the marvellous
stories circulated by the warriors returned from the camp of Moonspirit,
stories which amply corroborated the tales of Mungongo. Those who
supported Bakahenzie’s party believed implicitly, because they wished so
to do, the “reason” for the impotence of their united magic to be the
breaking of the magic circle by Bakuma. But others who cherished personal
ambitions for the head witch-doctorship were suspicious of each other and
of Bakahenzie, each one according to his grade and consequent knowledge in
the craft.
When the drum had ceased and they sat in impressive silence, Bakahenzie,
squatting motionless on the threshold of his hut, began to mutter
incantations and to rock from side to side. Now every one of the inner
cult knew well enough that this performance was merely a ceremony
prescribed by tradition and expediency; yet for that very reason and
particularly for the benefit of the lesser wizards, they solemnly accepted
it, grunting in chorus as heartily as the others to the chant of
Bakahenzie. As suddenly as dramatically, Bakahenzie stopped with eyes
staring upon another world and fell upon his back, to scream and to writhe
realistically as practice assured him. Then when the mouth was flecked
with foam, the spirit of Tarum spake through the rigid body which lay as
in catalepsy with eyes inverted:
“Aie! Aie! I am the spirit of Kintu!
Aie! Aie! I am he who first was!
Aie! Aie! I am the banana from whom I was made!
Aie! Aie! The time of the nuptial draweth nigh!
Aie! Aie! But where is the bride of my bed?
Aie! Aie! Let her be found and prepared!
Aie! Aie! For my lips are athirst for her blood!
Aie! Aie! Let the son of the Snake be anointed!
Aie! Aie! Let him be ready to assist at my feast!
Aie! Aie! I have spoken, I, the father of Men!
Aie! Aie! I, Tarum, the soul of your ancestors!”
From the assembly came the low belly grunt of acceptance, for they were,
by suggestion, infected with the induced hysteria almost as much as the
superb actor himself; they believed; even the members of the inner cult
were convinced for the moment that indeed the mighty spirit of their
ancestors was speaking.
Slowly, with many prodigious grunts and twists, did Bakahenzie’s soul
return to his body. He sat up and after a long pause said impressively:
“What hath He said unto you?”
And Marufa, as solemnly, related all that He had said.
“Eh!” said Bakahenzie tonelessly, “it is even as I have prophesied. These
indeed are the words of wisdom. Is it not so, O my brethren?” Again came
the low grunt of assent. “Let us obey, that these foul spirits may pass
and the Unmentionable One return unto his children!”
Then, according to custom, all save those of the inner cult arose and went
forth silently. In the heart of Yabolo, as he squatted as expressionless
as the others, was satisfaction, for he saw, or thought he saw, that
Eyes-in-the-hands would be pleased with the destruction of a man who might
possibly become his rival; and on that principle imagined himself
introduced by his relative, Sakamata, to Eyes-in-the-hands as the slayer,
or initiator of the slaying, of his rival, Moonspirit. That Zalu Zako
should be anointed King-God suited him as well as the other wizards and
for the same reason. Therefore Yabolo for once raised no objection to the
behests of Bakahenzie.
Already from the encampment rose the excited voices of the warriors who
had been informed of the decision of the assembly of wizards. But the
shadows were long. The forest was even more thickly peopled with spirits
than their own park-like country. One of the inner cult of five suggested
that the attack be made at dawn; but Bakahenzie, still baited by
uncertainty regarding the reality of the magic of Moonspirit and the
possible influence of Zalu Zako now that he had apparently developed a
will of his own before they could shut him up in the godhead, was for
immediate action, and insisted that they call together the warriors and
make special magic to protect them from the forest demons. Yabolo, as
anxious as Bakahenzie, became his ally in urging that this be done. But
Marufa was not at all of this way of thinking. While the fate of Zalu Zako
was quite immaterial, his attitude to Moonspirit was much the same as the
young man’s, but prompted by a different motive; a power possible to
utilize for his benefit. But he said no word, listening indifferently
apparently to the throbbing of the drums summoning the warriors. When the
inner circle broke up he stalked solemnly to his own hut, but when he was
within he took from a gourd a special amulet, slipped through a hole in
the palisade behind the hut, and disappeared into the forest.