The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian Studies Part 1

The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian Studies.

by Frank Worthington.

THE MIND OF THE NATIVE.

THE WITCH DOCTOR.

I.

The Native Commissioner's Court had, with a very brief interval for luncheon, sat throughout the day. The weather was very hot and thundery, for the breaking of the rains was imminent. A number of cases had been disposed of, and the last was now drawing to a close. Having listened to the arguments of both sides, the Commissioner summed up, gave judgment, and dismissed the litigants, whereupon the native clerk began to collect the papers and put things away.

The official lighted a cigarette, put on his hat, and walked towards the door. He was met by his head messenger.

"Another case, Morena,"[1] said the messenger, pointing to a middle-aged native squatting in the courtyard softly clapping his hands. The hard-worked white man paused; he had thoughts of tea awaiting him in his bungalow a hundred yards away.

[1] _Morena_ signifies _Chief_.

"Tell the man to come to-morrow," he said, and walked off in the direction of his house.

The head messenger turned to the man sitting in the yard and said: "The Morena won't hear you to-day; you must sleep in the compound for to-night; to-morrow he will listen."

"But my case is a big one," replied the stranger. "The father of his people will surely hear my case."

The messenger pointed to the compound: "All cases are heavy in the hands of those who bring them; the compound is there."

The man was evidently distressed. Raising his voice in the hope that the Commissioner would hear him, he shouted shrilly: "Ma-we! Ma-we! But mine is a big case, it is one of killing--of killing of people; the father of his people must hear me. Oh! Morena, I have a case, a big case, a case of killing."

But the Native Commissioner had reached his house and was out of sight, the native clerk had locked the office door and, heedless of the man's wailing, walked away. If he thought at all, it was that sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; evil meaning work to him.

"Come, father," said the head messenger, "I go now to the compound, and you with me; to-morrow the Morena will hear your case before any other.

I, Mokorongo, will see to it."

But the man was not to be consoled. "No," said he, "my case is a big one, of people killed by witchcraft; I, too, will die to-night. Take me to the Morena, my father; do not refuse and so kill me."

The messenger felt uncomfortable. For some reason, best known to himself, his master disapproved of the killing of people, and also set his face against witchcraft. No witch doctor could practise for long in his district, for was not his medicine stronger than that of any witch doctor? Did not the doctors know it, and had they not all moved to a safer place? Who, then, could have done this killing by witchcraft?

Yes, it was a big case, and he would take the man to his master; but he must break in upon the great man's rest with care, or there would be trouble.

Telling the stranger to come with him, he strode towards the house, pulling down his uniform in front and behind and settling his fez smartly on his head--evidence of some nervousness. Arriving at the door, he peered in. The hall was cool and dark, and, coming from the glare, for a moment he could see nothing; the next, he was aware of the Commissioner's eye upon him, and started violently at his master's sharp "Well, Mokorongo, what is it?"

He began well: "Morena, here is a man who has killed another, and wants to tell of the matter before the sun sets, when he, too, will die."

"Let the man come to the door."

For Mokorongo the worst was over. He had with impunity disturbed the great man; the rest would be easy. He fitly marshalled the stranger to the mat just inside the hall door, drew himself up to his full height, and stood by to obey immediately such orders as his master might be pleased to give.

The Commissioner, who was a good linguist, addressed the seated man direct:

"So you have killed a man?"

"No, Morena."

"And you will yourself die to-night?"

"No, Morena."

Mokorongo's uneasiness returned; he shifted slightly and gazed at the ceiling.

"Tell me your story."

"Morena, my case is a big one; it is of killing--the killing of people, of my son--by witchcraft. Yesterday at sunset he died, and I, too, shall die to-night unless the Morena, father of his people, makes a stronger medicine, stronger than that of the witch doctor----" Here the wretched fellow paused.

The Commissioner looked thoughtfully at the man in front of him; it was evident that the native dared not mention the witch doctor's name.

Presently he rose, took from a side-table a decanter, poured himself out some whisky, and added soda from a sparklet bottle. Returning to his seat, he drank deeply of the bubbling liquid.

The native was much impressed. Boiling water alone, so far as he knew, bubbled like that; he knew of the ordeal by boiling water, and had, no doubt, seen more than once the test applied. But this white man drank the boiling mixture with evident pleasure. Here, then, was the chief of all witch doctors.

He finished his sentence: "--Chiromo."

"Where does he live?"

He explained in detail.

"Of what do you accuse Chiromo?"

"Of killing my son by witchcraft."

"Go on with your story."

"I have some goats. My son herded them by day and put them in the village at night. My son had a black-and-white dog which followed him to the lands each day. Two days ago the dog stole a skin from Chiromo's bed. Chiromo saw the dog eating the skin, and killed him with his axe.

Chiromo is an angry man: he was angry with my son because his dog had eaten his skin. He knew the dog was my son's dog. He went to my son and said: 'I have killed your dog because your dog has eaten my skin.'

"My son was very much afraid and said: 'Yes, sir.'

"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's leg just above the knee, like this, and said: 'Do you feel pain here?' My son said: 'No.'

"Then Chiromo said: 'You will to-morrow.'

"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's other knee and said: 'Do you feel pain here?' My son said 'No.'

"Then Chiromo took hold of my son's arm at the elbow and said: 'Do you feel pain here?' My son said: 'No.'

"Then Chiromo touched his other arm and asked my son if he felt pain there. My son said he did not. He also touched him on the back of the neck, asking him if he felt any pain there. My son said he felt no pain.

"Then Chiromo said: 'In your two legs and your two arms and in your neck you will feel much pain to-morrow.'