Chapter II: Part 2

After five years had elapsed Edim had made a lot of money, so he returned to Inkum with the other four boys, knowing that, even if he were recognised, he would not be killed, as the people had filled the grave with bodies the day after he had escaped.

Edim very shortly afterwards became one of the head men of the town under Agatin and Ogum. He married some wives, and many children, and lived to a good age.

Told by Abassi of Inkum.--[E.D., 27.5.10.]

VI.--THE STORY OF THE WITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL HER HUSBAND; OR, WHY NATIVE DOGS REFUSE TO OBEY THEIR MASTERS.

Chief Leku of Inkum married a woman called Achor, and lived with her for some years.

At that time there was a very fine woman walking about the towns named Akoba. She was a yellow (light skin) woman, and had many hairs from the elephant’s tail, and beads round her neck. She did not wear any clothes, as she preferred to walk about naked, so that everyone could see her fine skin. Akoba had very large breasts, which hung down, but this did not in any way spoil her beauty in the young men’s eyes.

Many of them, including chiefs, wanted to marry her, but Akoba refused them all, as she made a lot of money out of them, and would not bind herself down to one man.

When she saw that so many men were bidding for her, she got a calabash and painted it different colours. Having placed the calabash some little distance off, Akoba said that anyone who wanted to marry her must hit the calabash with a small stone.

Many young men and chiefs tried who were anxious to possess her, but did not succeed, as she had put a ju-ju on them.

At last, however, Chief Leku managed to hit the calabash with a stone, and at once took Akoba home as his wife. He then called all the women together and held a big play, fired guns off in the town, rubbed Akoba with camwood, and told all people that she was his wife.

Akoba lived with Chief Leku for a little time, but very soon got tired of him. So she made up her mind that she would kill him and resume her former life. She said to herself, “It is very dull living with Leku all the time. If I kill him, I can have any man I fancy and make plenty of money, as all the young men want me, and are willing to pay, whereas now I have to do all the housework, and work hard on the farm, and Leku does not ‘dash’ me anything.”

Now, Chief Leku was a hunter, and made his living by killing animals (bush cows, buck, and kobs) and selling their meat. He had five dogs who were very clever, and had been taught to follow animals by scent. When they were young, a ju-ju was made for them, and certain leaves were mashed up and rubbed on their noses, which gave them very strong smelling powers, and they could follow wounded animals in the bush, which was most useful to Chief Leku.

The morning after Akoba had made up her mind to kill her husband, she said to him, “I want you to come into the forest with me to cut some palm nuts, but leave your hunting dogs behind as I do not like them.” Chief Leku, suspecting nothing, agreed, and they started off together.

When they got to the palm tree, the chief put his climbing belt of tie-tie round the tree, and, having secured it round his back, walked up to the top and commenced to cut the leaves or branches off round the nuts.

Akoba then beat her breast, and produced a sharp axe with which she began to cut down the tree, at the same time calling out to her husband that she was going to kill him. Very soon, the tree began to fall, but was fortunately caught by another tree growing near. Then Leku climbed into the other tree. Akoba, who was a witch, then started to cut down the tree in which her husband had taken refuge.

So the chief called a bird to him and sent it off with a message to his hunting dogs to come and rescue him. Immediately the dogs got the message they started off to help their master, but the witch Akoba caused a flood to overflow the path, so that the dogs could not track her. At last one of the dogs jumped into the water and swam across, and was very soon followed by the other four.

When they reached the foot of the tree the Chief told them to kill the woman, so they all leaped on her, and bit her until she died.

Then the chief came down from the tree, and divided Akoba’s body into five bundles, and told his dogs to carry them to his house, which they did.

When they reached the house it was night time, so the chief went to bed and told Achor what had happened to his new wife.

In the morning Achor saw the five bundles outside, and asked her husband how he had managed to carry them all, but he refused to tell her. So when night came and the chief went to bed, Achor said to him, “I will not sleep with you unless you tell me how you managed to carry those five bundles.” Now, Chief Leku was very fond of Achor, and wanted her badly, so he gave in, and told her that his hunting dogs had carried the bundles for him. Achor then went to bed, but the next morning she rose early, and calling the dogs to follow her, she went to the farm, where she collected five bundles of firewood and placed them in a row. Then Achor said to the dogs: “If you can carry bundles for your master, you can carry my firewood. Take those loads to my house at once.”

The dogs did not answer, but picked up their loads and carried them to the house. As each dog placed its load of firewood on the ground, it dropped down dead. Then the chief came out and said to Achor, “Look what you have done. All my hunting dogs are dead. This is what comes of telling you that my dogs carried the bundles for me.”

Ever since that day dogs never speak or do anything for their masters, although they can understand quite well. The reason the dogs will not obey now is because they say that the chief broke their dog law when he told his wife what they did for him.

Told by Abassi of Inkum.--[E.D., 27.5.10.]

VII.--HOW TWO FRIENDS FELL OUT: THE SPIDER AND THE GRASSHOPPER.

Long ago the spider and the grasshopper were good friends. Unfortunately the spider was intensely greedy, and this led to much unpleasantness.

Now the spider wanted to go some distance from his house to marry a wife in a strange country, so he called upon his friend the grasshopper to accompany him. They started off together in the morning before the sun was hot, and when they had gone some little way, the spider said to his friend, “While we are away together, I want you to call me ‘Stranger,’ and I will call you ‘Dabi.’ We must not call one another by our proper names, as I do not want the people to know who we really are.” To this the grasshopper readily consented, little knowing what he was letting himself in for.

Shortly afterwards they arrived at the first town, and were welcomed by the chief. The grasshopper said he was called Dabi, and introduced his friend as “Stranger.”

The chief then ordered food to be placed before them, but the spider, whilst thanking the chief for his kindness, said: “Surely the custom of the country is, when a stranger arrives in a town, to first of all offer him ‘the peace dish,’ consisting of dried meat and kola nuts, to show that he is welcome, and that there is peace between them.”

The chief replied, “Yes, there is certainly that custom here, but as I thought you were hungry after your long walk, I ordered the food to be brought at once.” He then told one of his slaves to bring the dried meat and kola, and when it was brought, the spider eat all the meat and kola except two nuts, one of which he returned to the chief, and the other he gave to the grasshopper, saying, “You must wait, my friend Dabi, for your food, as this meat and kola was brought for the stranger, and your name was not mentioned.”

Later on the general supply of food was passed round, a certain amount being set on one side for the strangers. This the spider also eat, saying, “I am sorry, Dabi, but there is no food for you, as this was brought for the stranger, and that is my name.”

The next day they resumed their journey, and when they arrived at the town where the girl lived whom the spider was about to marry, he went to his future father-in-law’s house, whose name was Tawn, and said, “Tawn, I have come to marry your daughter.”

Now Tawn had a wife called Osegi, who was a very good-natured woman, which was lucky for the grasshopper as things turned out.

When Tawn had embraced his future son-in-law, he ordered a cow to be killed to welcome him. And when the people brought the food, they said, “Here is the stranger’s portion.” Immediately the spider said to his friend, “Did you hear that, Dabi? Your name was not mentioned, so you have no right to this food, which is all for me, ‘the stranger.’” But the grasshopper kept quiet and never said a word to anyone, although he was very hungry.

The marriage between the spider and Chief Tawn’s daughter was celebrated the following day. All the people were called together to dance and play, guns were fired off in the town, and Chief Tawn killed four more cows for the strangers who had come from a distance.

The grasshopper longed to eat the food, but did not see how he could manage it, as he was known as Dabi, and his name was never called. The spider therefore ate his own share and the grasshopper’s as well, while the poor grasshopper sat down by himself, feeling very sad, and not speaking to anyone.

When he had finished the food the spider went out to dance and play with his new wife, but the grasshopper did not go, as he was very hungry and weak, and not feeling at all up to singing and dancing.

After he had been alone for a little while, the Chief’s wife Osegi came in, and seeing the grasshopper looking so miserable, went up to him and said, “Why are you so silent and sad at my daughter’s wedding, when all the other people are feasting and dancing?”

At this the grasshopper could contain himself no longer, and burst into tears saying, “Three days ago, when we left our home, the spider asked me to call him ‘Stranger’ and said he would call me ‘Dabi.’ During all this time I have been starving, and I am very hungry indeed, as all the food has been brought for ‘the Stranger,’ and the spider has eaten it because my name is Dabi, and I was never mentioned.” Then Osegi said she would tell the people what their proper names were so that when the food was brought the grasshopper would have his share. Osegi then went out and gave the necessary orders, and told her slaves to be most particular to call the grasshopper’s name the next time there was food so that he should be able to eat. In the afternoon this was done, but when the spider heard his friend’s name called out, he was so angry that he would not eat.

The second day the servants did the same, and the spider again refused the food when it was brought. Early in the morning of the third day the spider told his father-in-law that he was going home, and that he would leave his wife for a time, and come back for her later.

Tawu then said he would make another feast to celebrate their departure, and that he should like to see his son-in-law dance once more before he returned home; so the people were called to another play, and the chief milked one more cow for their food. When the food was ready the spider said to his friend, “Come on, Dabi, let us go and dance.” But the grasshopper refused and said, “No, you go and dance, and I will join you later.” So the spider went by himself, leaving the grasshopper in the room where the food was. Seeing there was no one about, he took his outside skin off very quickly and hung it up on a peg on the wall, making it look just like a living grasshopper; he then went out and joined the dancers.

When the spider saw the grasshopper had arrived and was busily engaged dancing, being very hungry he stole off by himself to the room where the food was and put his hand into the pot. But, just as he was going to take out a piece of meat, he happened to look up and saw the skin of the grasshopper, which was so lifelike that it deceived him into thinking that it really was his friend on the wall, so he pulled his hand out of the pot and said, trying to laugh, “It is all right, Dabi, my friend, I was not going to eat anything, I just came in to see what the food was like.” He then went out again to where the people were dancing, and to his great surprise he saw the grasshopper, where he had left him, dancing and enjoying himself with some pretty young girls.

The spider could not understand how it was that the grasshopper had managed to get back to the play so quickly, but, as he saw him there, he was too hungry to trouble much about that, and went back again to get the food he was so much in need of. Everything was quiet when he returned, so he lifted the lid again, and took out a large piece of yam, and had only taken one bite, when his eye was caught by the grasshopper’s skin in the same place where he had seen it before. The spider was amazed at this, and thought there must be some ju-ju in it, so he put the yam down and ran out of the house, shouting as he went, “All right, Dabi, I only thought I would like to taste the food to see that it was good.”

But when he got to the dance he again saw, to his intense astonishment, that the grasshopper was dancing away as merrily as before.

The spider then went up to his father-in-law and asked him to stop the dance, as he wished to go home at once. This was done, and they all went back to the chief’s house together.

Chief Tawu then gave both the spider and the grasshopper a dog each as a present, and shortly afterwards they started off together on their-return journey.

After walking a short distance outside the town, the spider was so hungry that he stopped and killed the dog his father-in-law had given, and very soon had eaten the whole of it.

He then tried to get the grasshopper to kill his dog, but he refused, saying, “The dog was given to me by the chief as a present and not for food. I shall take it home with me.”

When the spider had finished eating his dog, he put the skull of the dog in his bag, and asked the grasshopper to go in front of him. Shortly after this, the dog, scenting some game, dived into the bush, and very soon returned to the path with a small bush buck in his mouth. As the grasshopper had gone on in front and had not waited for his dog, the spider took the buck, and, having cut its head off and put it in his bag next to the dog’s skull, he sat down and eat the body.

When he rejoined the grasshopper later in the day, he produced his bag, and took out the buck’s head, and told the grasshopper that his dog’s skull was very clever, and had killed the buck. Although the grasshopper knew quite well what had happened, he did not say anything, but walked on again in front with his dog as he had done before.

That night they slept in the bush, and the next day, when they got near the first town they had passed through when leaving home, the dog again dashed off into the forest, and chased a bush cow which he bit very badly in the leg.

When they reached the town, the spider told the people that the grasshopper’s dog had chased one of the chief’s cows and bitten it very badly. This made the people angry, and they all turned out with sticks to beat the grasshopper, but when he saw them coming, he called out to them and soon convinced them that his dog had not bitten the chief’s cow, but had chased a bush cow and had wounded it badly. He then offered to show the hunters where the place was, and they gladly accepted his offer. The hunters then got their bows and arrows, and having been shown the tracks of the bush cow by the grasshopper, they had little difficulty in tracking it by its blood, and eventually killed it.

The people then carried the meat back to the town and placed the horns in front of their ju-ju. Half the meat was given to the grasshopper, and the remainder divided amongst the people, the spider getting nothing.

When the spider saw this he was vexed, and told the grasshopper that he did not want him for his friend again. He then set himself to make a net of web in order to revenge himself on the grasshopper, and has ever since lived on insects.

N.B.--This story was given to me at Akparabong by a native, but there would appear to be some doubt as to whether it is a local story or not. A native from Cavally on the Kroo Coast affirms that he first told this story which was afterwards related to me, and this boy certainly gave me afterwards the main features of the story, but with a different local colouring.

VIII.--HOW EWA ABAGI, AN INKUM WOMAN, WAS DROWNED IN THE CROSS RIVER, AND HOW SHE WAS RESCUED BY THE YOUNG MEN OF INSOFAN.

In the olden days, Ewa Abagi lived at Inkum. She was very rich and was considered to be a most beautiful woman. She made most of her money by trading in palm kernels and camwood, but, as she was so popular wherever she went with the young men of the country, she also made a lot of money out of them, as, if they did not pay her well in advance, she would have nothing to do with them.

She received many offers of marriage, but refused them all, until one day a chief of Insofan named Awor sent a message to her that he wished to make her his wife, as he had heard what a fine woman she was.

Ewa Abagi then sent word back to the chief that she could not marry him just then as she was expecting to bear a son, but that, some time after the child was born, she would go up the river to Insofan and marry him as she had heard that he was rich and was a good man.

The child turned out to be a girl, and shortly after her birth, Ewa Abagi bought a young slave woman called Mossim to look after her baby, while she herself went to the different markets trading.

When the girl baby had become six years old, Ewa Abagi dressed herself and her daughter up in their best clothes, and crossed over the river to Okuni with the slave woman Mossim carrying her load. They then proceeded to walk overland to Insofan.

On reaching the Abum River which is quite close to Insofan, Ewa Abagi went to bathe, and took her little daughter with her, putting down her cloth and beads on the ground. As the river was very shallow, it being the dry season, they walked and waded down to the Cross River.

When she got there, she washed her daughter and then called upon Mossim to scrub her back. The slave woman then came up behind her mistress, and pushed her into the Cross River, where she at once disappeared.

When the little girl, whose name was Essere, saw that her mother had gone, she began to cry, but Mossim said, “Do not cry. You must call me your mother, and I will treat you well. When we get to the town, you must not tell anyone that I am not your mother, or I will punish you severely.”

She then dressed the child and put on the cloth and beads of Ewa Abagi herself, having just tied up her own clothes into a bundle with some stones and thrown them into the Cross River.

Mossim and the child then walked on to Insofan, and, when they got there, the slave woman went to Chief Awor’s house and said, “I am Ewa Abagi whom you wanted to marry, and this (turning to the little girl) is my daughter Essere.” The chief welcomed her, but was not very pleased, as he had expected to see a much finer woman from all the reports he had heard of her beauty.

When the people of Insofan heard that the chief’s new wife had arrived, many of them went to see her, as she was so well known by name. When they saw Mossim, they were not greatly impressed by her looks, and said so quite freely in very plain terms.

Now, one of the young men of the town, who had been down the river trading, knew Ewa Abagi very well indeed, and, when he saw the slave woman, he recognized her as the servant, so he told Chief Awor. The chief said, “Very well, I hear what you say, and will not marry the woman at present. We will wait for a time, and I will make enquiries.”

In the morning Mossim told the girl to go and get water from the spring, and the little girl went off with the water pot on her head. Essere, however, did not go to the spring as she had been told, but went to the place where she had seen the slave woman push her mother into the water. She then sat down and began to cry for her mother.

When Ewa Abagi heard her daughter crying, she came out of the river and talked to her. She then painted her daughter with _okukum_,[1] and having helped the child with the water pot, she returned to the river, and Essere went home.

When she arrived at the house, Mossim asked her who had painted her with okokum and why she had been so long getting the water from the spring. The child did not answer, so the slave woman said to her, “Don’t you be so long another time, or you will get into trouble.”

The next day Essere went to get the water at the same place. She called for a long time, but her mother did not come out, as she saw a man making tombo in a tree near at hand. At last, however, as she did not like to hear her little daughter crying, Ewa Abagi came out very quickly, helped Essere with the water pot on to her head, and went back again into the river.

The man, who had been watching, saw Ewa Abagi and recognized her. He therefore came down from the tree and went at once to the chief and told him what he had seen.

The chief then told all the young men of the town to go early the next morning to the place where Ewa Abagi had been seen and to try and get her out of the river. He promised them that, if they succeeded in bringing the woman to him, he would hold a big play and “dash” them plenty of tombo and food.

The chief told Essere that, when she went in the morning to get the water, if she wanted to get her mother back, directly she had got the water out of the river she must take the pot back some little distance into the bush.

When the morning came, the little girl went off with her pot, as before, and having filled it with water, carried it back into the bush some little way from the river, and then sat down, and called for her mother to come and help her.

The young men, who had gone to the place before it was light, and who had lined both banks of the Abum river, by the chief’s orders, were all hidden out of sight, and, when Ewa Abagi came out of the water, they immediately surrounded her and caught her before she could get back to the river. They then carried her back to the chief.

The slave woman was then seized, and tied up to a tree, and, when the morning came, the chief charged her with trying to kill her mistress. She was found guilty, and was ordered to be killed as a sacrifice to the water ju-ju.

Mossim was then handed over to the young men who had rescued Ewa Abagi, and they took her to the place where she had pushed her mistress into the river, and, having cut her head off, threw the head and body into the river. This is one of the reasons why slaves are always killed and put into the grave of their master or mistress when they die, as a warning to other slaves not to try to kill their owners.

_Author’s note._

There is a firm belief amongst all the natives in the Ikom district that the slaves who are killed and buried with their master will meet him again in the Spirit Land, where the conditions of life will be the same as they were on earth. The master will recognise his slaves and they will work for him. They also believe that, when a chief arrives in the Spirit Land, accompanied by these slaves, carrying the gin cloth, rods, etc., which were placed in the grave, the people of the Spirit Land-will say, “This is a chief coming. Look at his slaves, etc.”

Some years ago a road was being made through an old compound which had tumbled down and disappeared, leaving no trace of any human habitation. The road passed through an old grave of a chief who had been buried in the house, and many things, including rods, bottles of gin and plates, had been put in the grave. The natives who were working on the road were afraid to touch anything in the grave, but a native foreman, who came from another country where they held different beliefs, opened a bottle of gin and drank some of it. When the natives saw that nothing happened to him, they all rushed in and there was a regular scramble for everything.

Told by Abassi of Inkum.--[E.D., 1.6.10.]

Thomas, District Clerk, Inkom, told me this grave incident, and said it happened in his presence some years ago at Calabar, when he was time-keeper in the P.W.D.

IX.--THE STORY OF THE WAR BETWEEN INKUM AND ENFITOP.

When the Inkum people first came to the Cross River about one hundred years ago, Chief Indoma established the five Inkum towns on the right bank of the river, and Chief Awum took his people over to the other side, and, having given the Enfitop people presents, asked them to allow him to build his town there, and also requested them to give him sufficient bush where he and his people could make their farms.

The Enfitop people eventually agreed to do this, and Chief Awum built his town, which he called Aliese, and appointed a man called Osode to be his second chief. Both these chiefs were under Chief Indoma of Inkum.

When the houses were finished and their farms made, Chief Awum called a society to play, the name of the society being Eberambi.

It was one of the rules of the society that anyone wishing to join must pay fifty rods, one goat, and five pots of tombo, which would be divided amongst the members.

Then Chief Osode sent invitations to the young men of Enfitop to come and join their society, and altogether about fifty of them became members.

Now, when the young men of Enfitop joined and paid their goats, rods, and tombo, Chief Osode divided up all the things they brought amongst the Inkum members, and never gave the Enfitop boys their share.

This caused great dissatisfaction, and at last they became so vexed that the Chief of Enfitop gave orders that for the future no more of his boys were to join the Eberambi Society.

When Chief Awum heard this, it made him angry, so he made a scheme or plan to rid the society of the Enfitop boys, who were no longer of any use, as they had paid up their presents to the society.

The Chiefs Awum and Osode then went into the bush, and searched about until they found an open space, which could be cleared without much trouble. There was a big rock in the middle, and the members all began working on the ground, and after a few days had it quite clear.

Chief Awum then told his young men to dig a very deep pit on one side of the rock next to its deepest side, and, when it was finished, he placed sharp stakes firmly in the ground with the points upwards.

A meeting of the members was called for the next evening, and the chief told his young men to sit all round the rock.

When the Enfitop boys arrived, they all sat together a little distance off, and one of their head boys was told to sit on the rock with his back to the pit, which he could not see, as it was dark.

The singing and dancing then began, and the tombo was passed round, but when it came to the turn of the man sitting on the rock, just at the moment when he began to drink, one of the Inkum boys, who had been instructed by the chief what to do, seized him by the ankles and pushed him over backwards, so that he fell into the pit on the sharp stakes and was killed at once. As it was quite dark and such a noise was going on, no one missed the boy or saw what had happened.

Then, in the early morning, before it was light, the Inkum boys went to the pit, and having taken out the body, covered the blood stains with sand and carried the body back to the town. The body was then cut up into small pieces and divided amongst the members of the society, who lit fires and cooked and eat their portions.

That night Chief Awum said to Osode:--“Well! that accounts for one of the members, and I hope soon that we shall have got rid of all of them.”

Chief Osode said that he thought the plan a very good one, particularly as it brought them in a supply of food which was always welcome.

Then, for four nights running, the same thing was done, and the boy who had been killed the previous night was divided up and eaten by the Inkum members of the society on the following day.

On the sixth night, however, the Enfitop boys met together, and counted their numbers. Finding that there were five of their members missing, they could not understand what had happened, so they decided not to attend the play that night.

This enraged the Inkum people, and the next day Chief Osode went to Enfitop and told them that, as they had refused to attend the play, they would not be members of the society any longer. So, after that, the Enfitop boys did not go to the play again, and the Inkum people lost their chance of getting any more of them for food.

After a short time had elapsed, Chief Awum consulted with Osode as to how they should get some more Enfitop boys to eat. After thinking some time, he said he thought the best way was to steal the children from the town.

So the following morning the Inkum young men surrounded Enfitop, but hid themselves in the bush, and waited there until all the men and women had gone to their farms to work, leaving only the old people and young children in the town.

When they had all gone, the Inkum men went very quietly into the town from house to house, and stole all the children they could find and carried them off. They did not take any of the old people as they were not much good for food.

That night they had a great feast in the town.

When the parents of the children who had been stolen returned from their farms they missed their little ones, and so they went and complained to the head chief.

The next day he called all his people together, and they held a big palaver to settle what should be done. At the meeting, one of the boys who had been a member of the Eberambi society got up and said that five of their members were missing, and he believed that it was the Inkum people who had killed them, and that they had stolen the children as well.

After a long discussion, it was decided to drive the Inkum people away, and to send them back across the river again, so a message was sent to Chief Indoma to tell his people to leave their town at Enfitop and go over to the Inkum side.

Chief Indoma could not understand the reason of this message being sent, so he replied that he certainly would not tell his people to move, and that he would see what they could do.

When the Enfitop people had completed their preparations for war, the head chief took one of his slaves to his ju-ju as a sacrifice, and the blood was sprinkled all round the ju-ju, the chiefs dancing in it. The body was then cut up and divided amongst the fighting men, who eat it. The chief then addressed the ju-ju as follows:--

“You always help us in the time of trouble. Here are my fighting men. I want you to make them strong and so that they will not receive any wounds from their enemies. If you help me, when the war is over, I will bring all the heads of the men we kill to you as tribute. I will also bring the prisoners we capture and kill them before you as a sacrifice.”

The chief then put his hand into the ju-ju pot containing water, rotten eggs, and mashed-up leaves and roots, and having stirred it well up, the fighting men all came up to him one after another, and he smeared them with the liquid on the forehead and breast.

After this ceremony was over, all the people went to the chief’s compound, where he consulted his head ju-ju man as to what the result of the war with the Inkum people would be. The ju-ju man then cast lots, and told them that they would drive the Inkum people away, killing many men and taking many men, women and children prisoners, but he warned them that they must not commence the fight, as it was the Inkum people who were in the wrong and had killed the Enfitop people.

They then armed themselves with bows and arrows, stones, and short heavy throwing sticks sharp at both ends, so that one end or the other would stick into their enemies. The next morning they surrounded the town of Aliese, and very soon the Inkum men came out.

The first arrow was fired by an Inkum man named Osim, and at once the fight became general. They fought for the greater part of the day, until at last the Inkum men were beaten, many having been killed and wounded. The survivors, including Chief Indoma, who was present at the fighting, escaped into the bush, leaving the women and children and old men at the mercy of the Enfitop people.

Most of the old men were killed, and the women and children were made prisoners and taken to Enfitop.

That very night they held a big play, and the heads of all the men who had been killed were placed before the ju-ju. Six of the best of the prisoners were then killed in front of the ju-ju, and after their blood had been sprinkled on the ground, the bodies were cut up and given to the fighting men, who lit fires and boiled the flesh with yams, pepper and salt.

While the food was cooking, a big dance was being held, and one of the prisoners was placed on his back upon the ground in front of the ju-ju. He was then staked securely to the ground, and a heavy wooden drum was placed upon his stomach and was beaten with sticks while the fighters were dancing.

When the food was sufficiently cooked the fighting men eat it, and then, after drinking plenty of tombo, went to bed. The prisoner was left on the ground all night with the heavy drum on top of him.

The next morning the head fighting man released the prisoner, and having tied him up to a tree, cut his head off with his matchet. He then dressed himself up in the long hair (mane) of a ram, wrapped a leopard skin round his waist, painted his face, breast and right hand with white chalk, and placed four feathers from the black-and-white fishing eagle in his hair, one down the centre in front, one behind, and one on either side. He then took the head of the man he had just killed in his left hand, and holding his matchet in his right, he danced all round the town, shouting out that they were great fighters, and that the ju-ju had made them successful in the battle. When he had been all round, he went into the open space in the middle of the compound, and the women came up to him with presents; some would present him with a fathom of cloth, but the poorer people would offer a few rods, yams, or some salt. The body of the man was then divided up amongst the chiefs, the head chief getting the right arm, shoulder and breast for his share, and the head fighter was given the man’s heart to eat.

All the heads were then collected and placed over a fire to singe the hair off. They were then given to the head chief, who boiled and eat the meat off them with his sons and people. The chief placed the skulls on the ground of the room where he slept, so that the room was quite paved with them. This was done so that the chief could put his feet on them, to show that he had trampled on the enemies whom he had conquered.

The head of the man who was first sacrificed before the war commenced was not eaten, but was left on the ground in front of the ju-ju as his share.

To return to the Inkum people, who had escaped into the bush on the night of the battle, as soon as it was dark, Chief Indoma called them all together and asked his ju-ju man what he had done to make him so unfortunate in the battle and to lose so many people. The ju-ju man told him that Chief Awum and Chief Osode had caused all the trouble by killing the Enfitop boys and stealing the children for food. He also said that the Inkum people had gone to fight like women; they had not consulted him (by which he lost a handsome present) neither had they killed a slave as a sacrifice to their ju-ju.

Chief Indoma agreed with the ju-ju man, and said he would not forget again, and that in the future when he went to war he would see that the proper precautions were taken and the usual sacrifices made as had always been done in the past.

He then spoke to Awum and Osode, saying “I am very angry with both of you. Up to the present I have been known to all people as a good fighter and leader, but I shall always be ashamed to meet the Enfitop people now. You have done wrong. You have killed and eaten many of the Enfitop people and told me nothing about it. When they sent a message to me, I told them that I would not move my people across the river, as I never thought they would fight against me, but now I am compelled to do so, as they have either killed or taken as prisoners nearly all the men, women and children of the town. I look to you to arrange how to get me and the remaining people over the river in safety.”

Then Chief Osode stood up, and said that he could manage that quite easily, as he was a ju-ju man, and would make a bridge for them out of his body.

Now, in those days there was a big snake who used to live on the land, and when he grew to be as long as a palm oil tree is high, he forsook the land and lived in the small creeks and rivers, where he grew to a tremendous size. The name of the snake was Ku Ku Barakpa.

In the early morning, Osode turned himself into the snake, and placed himself across the river with his tail on the Enfitop side and his head on the Inkum side, his back being out of water, so that the people could cross over in safety. As soon as he had done this the survivors of the Inkums, headed by Chief Indoma, walked over the snake’s body, but, when the Enfitop people tried to follow them, the snake waited until they were in the middle and then sank, leaving the Enfitop men to drown. After two days their bodies floated and were picked up by the Inkum people who carried them back to their town and eat them.

Chief Indoma blamed Chief Awum very much for what had happened, but he praised Chief Osode for getting them back in safety across the river, and also for his ingenious device in getting them some more human food without any risk or fighting.

Told by Abassi of Inkum, 7th June, 1910.

X.--HOW AN INKUM BOY WAS DROWNED BY HIS COMPANIONS AND HOW THEY WERE PUNISHED.

There was once an Inkum woman named Omegha, who was considered very good-looking, but, curiously enough, no man had ever wanted to marry her, although she was very popular and went about from one man to another. She also went from town to town, showing off her beauty, in the hopes that some man might fancy her and ask her to marry him.

At last she got tired of walking about, and returned home to live with her parents. Her father was very fond of her, but often said that he wished she had been a boy as she would then have been able to help him with his work on the farm.

After Omegha had been living at home for a little time, her father said to her, “I wish you would get a son who would help me on the farm when he grew up.” Omegha replied that, although she slept with plenty of men, she had never conceived. Her father then warned her that she would never bear a child if she went on as she was doing, always changing and sleeping with so many different men.

He then advised her to live with the same man for a whole month, and then see what would happen. Omegha waited for a week, and then did as she had been advised to do by her father, and, after a month had elapsed, she found that she had conceived.

A few months after this, Omegha’s father died, leaving her mother and herself in the house. Then her mother said to her “Now that your father is dead, you must not go about as you did before, as there are only two of us. You shall stay at home and I will look after you and the child who is soon to be born.” They then wrapped the dead body up in mats, and made a hole in a room at the back of the house, where they buried the corpse.

Some time afterwards, Omegha gave birth to a son, whom she called Ogor. The boy grew very fast, and after a time he was able to walk.

As Omegha was a poor woman, she used to take her little son with her to the farm every day. But when Ogor was six years old, she got tired of doing this, and used to leave him in the house with his grandmother, who was very fond of him. Then Omegha used to go off alone, and visit her numerous men friends.

Ogor had often been told by his mother not to go near the river, and he was frequently warned not to play about with the other boys of his age in the town, as they would surely lead him into mischief.

One day, while his grandmother was cooking, he heard the company of small boys to which he belonged playing outside, so he stole out of the house and joined them. When the boys saw who it was had come to play with them, they asked him why he did not always come out and join them, so he told them that his grandmother would not allow him to go out of the house.

The boys then said they were hot from playing and were going down to the river to bathe. They invited Ogor to go with them, but he refused and ran home.

Before he reached the house, his mother, who was returning from visiting one of her lovers, met him and gave him a sound flogging for being so disobedient.

That night, the boys belonging to Ogor’s company, of whom there were eight, met together and decided that Ogor had been very rude to them. They therefore determined to punish him the next time they caught him.

A few days afterwards, Ogor again stole out of the house when his grandmother was busy, and joined his companions who were playing in the town not far from the beach.

When the play was finished, they all went down to the river to bathe, and swam out to a sand bank in the middle of the river, it being the dry season.

One of the boys had brought some strong tie-tie with him, and two others went off and soon came back again with a heavy stone. Ogor was then put on his back and securely fastened to the stone with the tie-tie. He did not struggle or cry out, as he thought it was all done in play.

When the boys had finished tying up their companion, they looked round very carefully to see whether anyone was watching them, but, finding there was no one about, they carried Ogor out into the river, and threw him into the water where it was deep, and he sank at once. The boys then swam back to the beach, and went off to their various homes.

Just about this time, Omegha returned home, and, missing Ogor, asked her mother what had become of the boy. The old woman told her daughter that Ogor had stolen out of the house as he had done on the previous day, and she thought he had most likely gone to join the small boys’ company as she had heard them playing in the town.

Both the women then went out to look for the boy, but could not find him or any of his companions, as they had all returned to their parents’ houses. They searched everywhere for Ogor, but could not find him, so at last Omegha thought of the porcupine, and made up her mind to ask his advice as to what had happened to Ogor, and what was the best thing to do to get him back again. She then walked to the porcupine’s house and told him that she was in great grief as she had lost her only son Ogor, and could not find out what had become of him. Omegha then asked the porcupine to help her, which he promised to do. He then went into his back room to consult his ju-ju, and, being very clever, it did not take him long to find out what had happened to the boy, so he soon returned to Omegha, and told her that her son had been thrown into the river by his companions, and that the water ju-ju had taken him to his house at the bottom of the deep pool in the river.

Omegha then went down to the beach with the porcupine, and, when they arrived at the water’s edge, the porcupine, who was a very good swimmer, at once dived into the river and swam to the water ju-ju’s house. The porcupine then told the water ju-ju that he had promised to help Omegha, and asked if the boy was there. The water ju-ju replied that he had saved Ogor’s life as he was sorry for Omegha and her mother, who were poor people, and only had this one boy.

He then said that he had no objection to returning Ogor to his mother, and that the porcupine might take him away when he departed, but he insisted that the boys who had thrown Ogor into the river should be punished, and told the porcupine to tell the chiefs of the town that, if they did not punish the boys very severely, he would seize everyone who came into the river and keep them in his house for all time.

The water ju-ju also told the porcupine that he must take Ogor to his mother when it was dark, and hide him in the house until the palaver was heard, so that no one should know that Ogor was alive.

The porcupine waited until the evening came, and then, having thanked the water ju-ju for his kindness, swam off with Ogor, and took him to his mother’s house, taking care to go by the back way so that no one should see them. Omegha was delighted to get her son back again, and hid him away. She then thanked the porcupine, who went off to the chiefs of the town and delivered to them the message from the water ju-ju.

The chiefs at once sent the drummer round the town to tell all the people to attend at the palaver house the next day, that no one was to go to their farms, and that all the small boys of the town were to attend.

In the morning, the chiefs took their seats, and the people sat down all round them. The porcupine was then called upon to tell all the people what had happened. So he stood up and said that Ogor, the son of Omegha, had been thrown into the river by his companions, they having first tied him up and fastened a heavy stone to him to make him sink. They had then left him to drown, but the water ju-ju, being kind-hearted, had saved him.

Ogor was next called, to the great astonishment of the eight boys who thought he was dead. He pointed them all out, and told the chiefs which of the boys had tied him up and those who had carried him and thrown him into the river.

The head chief then said that all the eight boys were guilty of trying to drown their companion, and that they should all be taken to the beach and killed as a warning to other boys not to kill one another. He also pointed out that the water ju-ju had threatened to seize all the people who went into the river if the boys were not properly punished.

All the people agreed that it was a just sentence, but one chief, called Eka, refused to allow his son, who was one of the eight boys, to be killed, and said he would see what the water ju-ju could do.