The Witch Doctor and other Rhodesian Studies Part 8

"What are the others?"

"That is all he said to us."

"Have you eaten this morning?"

"Yes, Morena."

"Then bring breakfast for the Magistrate and me, and quickly."

"But, Morena--"

"Well?"

"I may not work to-day."

"Breakfast is food, not work. Bring it."

"Yes, Morena."

The boy went out. The Commissioner turned to the rest of his servants.

"You won't work to-day?"

The cattle herd answered: "We may not, it is forbidden."

"Who forbids you?"

"Lizizi."

"Who is Lizizi?"

"The great doctor."

"Great?"

"Yes, Morena. Does he not jump into the river and come out alive on the third day?"

"I should say not, but where does he live?"

"At Minanga, on the Zambesi."

"Go to your work. I will visit this Lizizi. There is some mistake. The messenger is a foolish fellow, he had forgotten his master's words. I will see to it. Tell all the people that I go on a visit to Lizizi. He who does not work now and at once and well will meet with misfortune."

The servants dispersed to their various occupations. Slowly at first, and with evident reluctance; but, hearing that the head boy was busy getting his master's breakfast, they, too, set about their various duties.

When the Magistrate arrived he found everything normal. He had breakfast with the Commissioner. When the meal was over he found his own servants had gone back to his compound. The word had spread abroad that the Commissioner would visit Lizizi and put matters right.

"How did you do it?"

"Just talked to them a little."

"No violence, I hope?"

"Unnecessary."

"What was it all about?"

"I know no more than you, but intend to find out."

In a few hours the Commissioner was on his way to Minanga, on the Zambesi, the home of Lizizi, the great doctor.

II.

All next day, and for several days following, natives might be seen pa.s.sing south in the direction of Minanga. The curious thing about these flocks of travellers was that they were chiefly composed of children--little children, from infants in arms to boys and girls of nine or ten, none older. When questioned, the parents would reply simply: "We are called. We are called to Minanga by Lizizi--by Lizizi, the great doctor."

The native servants who worked in the houses of the officials could, or would, give no fuller explanation. "Yes, they are called by Lizizi," was the only answer to all questioning.

In the Club, speculation as to what the Commissioner would do monopolised the conversation. Nearly all the officials wagered on a native rising. The Commandant of Police went about to prepare systematically for an event of this kind.

III.

The Commissioner travelled light and quickly. He, too, pa.s.sed hordes of natives, mostly children. He, too, learnt that Lizizi called--that Lizizi had apparently mustered all the children of the district. He was now doubly certain that this was no native rebellion, or the children would have been conspicuously absent. He grudged Lizizi this implicit obedience. Two could not run the same country.

At length he approached Minanga. The neighbouring villages were thronged with children. In Minanga itself there were many hundreds. The Commissioner rode to the centre of the village and demanded to be shown Lizizi's hut. He was led up the hill to a single small hut built half-way up the slope. In front of it grew a huge tamarind tree.

"There is Lizizi," said his guide, pointing to an old man sitting on a stool in front of the hut.

The Commissioner watched. A strange performance was going on. A long queue of children was moving slowly past the seated figure, and as each child was marshalled forward--screaming with fright, for the most part--the old man put his hands on its head.

The Commissioner rode up to the hut. The old man touched the head of the child in front of him with his crossed thumbs; that was all, and the child pa.s.sed hurriedly on to join a throng, already large, of others who had pa.s.sed through the ordeal, or whatever it was.

On seeing the Commissioner the old man rose and seated himself on the ground, clapping his hands by way of greeting.

This curious native wore a large pair of spectacles, which gave him a benevolent air. His feet were bare--so, too, was his head--but he was otherwise clothed to the extent of a patched and very dirty shirt and an aged pair of trousers.

"Are you Lizizi?" asked the Commissioner.

"Morena, I am his slave."

"Where is Lizizi?"

"He walked on the water. Then he went to the bottom of the river and stayed there. After three days he came out alive and well. Some people said so who saw him."

"Where is he now?"

"Who can tell?"