African Indigenous Religions and Disease Causation

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African Indigenous Religions and Disease Causation

Studies of Religion in Africa Supplements to the Journal of Religion in Africa

Edited by

Paul Giﬀord School of Oriental and African Studies, London

Deputy Editor

Ingrid Lawrie College of the Resurrection, Mirﬁeld

VOLUME 28

African Indigenous Religions and Disease Causation From Spiritual Beings to Living Humans

by

David Westerlund

BRILL LEIDEN • BOSTON 2006

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data LC Control Number: 2006047581 Mériot, Sylvie-Anne. [Cuisinier nostalgique. English] Nostalgic cooks : another French paradox / edited by Sylvie-Anne Mériot ; translated by Trevor Cox and Chanelle Paul ; pref. by André Grelon. p. cm. — (International studies in sociology and social anthropology, ISSN 0074-8684 ; v. 97) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 90-04-14346-7 paperback : alk. paper 1. Restaurant management— France—History. I. Title. II. Series. TX945.M49613 2006

ISSN 0169-9814 ISBN-13: 978 90 04 14433 0 ISBN-10: 90 04 14433 1 © Copyright 2006 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill Academic Publishers, Martinus Nijhoﬀ Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS

Preface ..........................................................................................

vii

Introduction ..................................................................................

1

Chapter One

Ethnographic Background ..............................

25

Chapter Two

Heavenly Beings among the San ..................

41

Chapter Three

God in Maasai Thought ................................

65

Chapter Four

Sukuma Spirits of Ancestors ..........................

85

Chapter Five

Kongo Spirits or Nkisi .................................... 103

Chapter Six

Yoruba Divinities ............................................ 121

Chapter Seven

Living Humans among the San and Maasai .................................................... 149

Chapter Eight

Witchery among the Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba .................................................... 165

Chapter Nine

Factors of Continuity and Change .............. 189

Appendix

Notes on Natural Causation of Disease ...... 209

References .................................................................................... 217 Index .............................................................................................. 235

PREFACE

This is the end of a long research journey. It started in the 1980s during my ﬁve years as a research fellow in a project, ‘African folk models and their application’, at the Department of Cultural Anthropology, Uppsala University. This was an interdisciplinary project, and as a historian of religion I co-operated with anthropologists and other scholars. One of the early major publications that emanated from the project was the collective volume Culture, Experience and Pluralism: Essays on African Ideas of Illness and Healing (1989), which I co-edited with the project’s director, Anita Jacobson-Widding. My present study can be seen partly as an expanded and updated version of the long essay ‘Pluralism and Change: A Comparative and Historical Approach to African Disease Etiologies’ from that volume. Having studied history and comparative religion at Stockholm University, I found employment for some years in a department of cultural anthropology to be a new and valuable experience. Although my approach to the study of religions was, and still is, mainly historical, I did learn a great deal from the encounter with anthropological colleagues. For the opportunity to participate in the Africa project, as we usually called it, I am particularly indebted to Anita Jacobson-Widding. I would also like to express my thanks to the other colleagues at her department in Uppsala. In 1988 I was employed in the history of religions at the Faculty of Theology in Uppsala, where I stayed until I returned to Stockholm in 2003 and started my present work at the new Södertörn University College. The Faculty of Theology in Uppsala was another good location for African studies. In particular, the co-operation with scholars of mission such as the late Carl F. Hallencreutz has been beneﬁcial. Moreover, Uppsala oﬀers good library resources for research on Africa. In particular, the University library, Carolina Rediviva, and the library of the Nordic Africa Institute have rich collections. Much of the material for this book has been gathered during several research visits to European mission archives and African universities. The archive of the White Fathers in Rome has been particularly important, but valuable and seldom utilized sources in Catholic and Protestant archives in Leipzig, Berlin, Chevilly (outside

viii

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Paris), Birmingham and Brussels have also been used. During my stays in East Africa (Dar es Salaam, Nairobi and Kampala), West Africa (Ibadan, Ife and Jos) and South Africa (Cape Town and Durban), I have co-operated with several scholars. For assisting me in various ways I am especially indebted to Cuthbert Omari, Leuben Njinya-Mujinya, Jacob Olupona, Umar Danfulani and Abdulkader Tayob. Since the early 1990s I have travelled frequently to Bayreuth in Germany, where I have used the excellent Africa collections of the University library. As the material is available on open shelves it is also very convenient to use. For facilitating and making my stays in Bayreuth enjoyable, I wish to express my thanks to Ulrich Berner, the chair-holder in the study of religions (Religionswissenschaft) at the University of Bayreuth, and all his colleagues. For ﬁnancial support, I am, ﬁnally, indebted to the Swedish Research Council. David Westerlund Stockholm June 2004

INTRODUCTION Ce qu’il nous faut aujourd’hui reconnaître, c’est que le pluralisme ne survient pas de l’extérieur à une société quelle qu’elle soit, mais qu’il lui est toujours déjà inhérent.1 Uniformity on which model-makers rely is an illusion.2

The idea of writing this historical and comparative study of African etiologies of disease grew out of my research in the 1980s and early 1990s on some previous works on African indigenous religions. Focusing particularly on studies by African scholars of religion, I discussed in a number of historiographically oriented works the signiﬁcance of certain theological and ideological presuppositions.3 In the 1960s and 1970s leading researchers like Mbiti and Idowu, as well as a host of others, presented overgeneralized and over systematized accounts of African religion (in the singular). Though much of their criticism of previous western research on African religions, related partly to other kinds of presupposition, was well founded and very important, their theologically and nationalistically inspired work was weak in terms of historical and cultural contextualization. Issues and approaches Since the 1980s, there has been a growing number of more locally based studies on African religions by African, as well as by western, scholars of religion.4 Considering this recent tendency in research on African religions, carried out by scholars of religion to replace ‘comparativism’ with ‘localism’, can we avoid a return to an overemphasis on comparative perspectives as a reaction to a similar overemphasis

1

Hountondji 1980: 233. Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 186. 3 See especially Westerlund 1985, 1991 and 1993. Cf. Flood 1999. 4 One good example of such works, which take the issue of contextualization seriously, is J.K. Olupona’s book on certain aspects of the religion of the Ondo Yoruba (Olupona 1991). 2

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on the study of religion in a local context? One of the main questions here is how locally oriented studies may be combined with a comparative perspective, which is crucially important to the history of religions, and to the study of religions in general. Before the approach of this book is brieﬂy outlined, however, some notes on the use of the concept of religion seem essential. In an article entitled ‘Histories of Religion in Africa’, Louis Brenner has for his purposes deﬁned religion ‘as the ﬁeld of cultural expression that focuses speciﬁcally on communication and relationship between human beings and those (usually) unseen spiritual entities and/or forces that they believe aﬀect their lives’.5 Such a deﬁnition serves my purposes too. I agree with Brenner that religions should not be seen as self-contained systems or ‘world-views’ and that it is important to focus on issues of heterogeneity and pluralism.6 Here the signiﬁcance of intra-religious as well as inter-religious plurality is strongly emphasized. For the structuring and analytical focus of the book, however, the question of inter-religious diversity is of prime importance. Even though scholars may disagree strongly, and largely for ideohistorical reasons, about the old issue of the inﬂuence of material factors on non-material, including religion, and vice versa, it is common knowledge that there is some connection or ‘co-variation’ between religion and other dimensions of culture. It can be argued, for example, that religions among hunting-gathering peoples tend to have certain structural similarities that diﬀer from other such similarities found among agricultural peoples with more complex and centralized socio-economic and political features. Thus, it is important to study religion in a wider cultural context.7 However, it should be stressed that, like religions, cultures are heterogeneous and changing entities.8

5

Brenner 2000: 164. Ibid., 143. In a previously published study on African disease etiologies (Westerlund 1989), I used ‘pluralism’ as a key concept. See also, e.g., Platvoet 2002: 505. 7 Ecological factors are another aspect of signiﬁcance for the diﬀering forms of religion which, however, will not be in particular focus in this work. For an interesting, broad and recent study of religion and the environment, see Tanner & Mitchell 2000. 8 As remarked by Wijsen & Tanner (2002: 6 f.), culture is a term that implies the submergence or at least the subjugation of individuals and small group identities: ‘descriptions and deﬁnitions of culture seem to be characterised by collectiveness, as if groups and masses of people look and behave the same way’. Cultures of peoples studied in this book have been identiﬁed and depicted mainly by outsiders, although particularly in recent decades intellectual insiders have contributed to this work too. 6

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Thus, we should be wary of the risk of exaggerating aspects of homogeneity and orderliness. While arguing for the signiﬁcance of contextualizing the study of African—and other—religions, I hold that religion cannot be fully understood by references to non-religious factors or dimensions, be they social, political, economic, psychological, intellectual or any other. Hence the issue of religious beliefs should be taken seriously. For the comparative purposes of this book, a systematic selection of ﬁve diﬀerent peoples or ethnic groups from various parts of Africa has been made. Whereas the San of southern Africa have a tradition of hunting-gathering and non-centralized socio-political relations, the Maasai of East Africa are pastoralists and have a slightly more centralized and complex socio-political structure. Then there are three peoples with a mainly agricultural base, the Sukuma of East Africa, the Kongo of Central Africa and the Yoruba of West Africa, who diﬀer—from less to more—in terms of cultural complexity.9 Following conventional usage, the ethnic labels San, Maasai, Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba will also be used when referring to religious and medical conceptions among these peoples.10 It should be underlined at the outset, however, that this usage does not imply a simple connection between ethnicity and religion. As will be emphasized several times, there may be, for instance, historical and regional reasons for questioning such a connection. It would be a functionalist fallacy to conceive of ethnic groups as islands, isolated in time and space. There is a well documented potential for certain phenomena, such as myths, divination and witchery eradication movements, to cross ethnic and other boundaries. It should be remembered, also, that to a considerable degree ethnic, or ‘tribal’, identities are colonial inventions. Moreover, since there may be important diﬀerences between various sub-groups and regions of the peoples concerned, I have tried to specify as much as possible on which sub-groups and areas the main emphasis lies. The importance of individual variations should be kept in mind too, although such diﬀerences are diﬃcult 9 More details about cultural diﬀerences between these ﬁve peoples will be provided in chapter 1. 10 Some scholars argue that, partly because ethnic labels like these are tainted with foreign notions of territorial homogeneity, they should be abandoned. However, it is diﬃcult to avoid such nomenclature, particularly in studies based on ethnographic material of the past. It should be noted, also, that to a large extent such ethnic labels have become self-designations of the peoples concerned. See further, e.g., Hersak 2001: 615.

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to observe in historical and comparative studies like this, which is based on archival material and literature rather than ﬁeld research.11 Being essentially a (religio-)historical study, this work covers a period of somewhat more than a century. Although there are a few references to the late nineteenth century, it is basically a work on the twentieth century, with a main emphasis on the latter half of that period. This focus is partly directed by the paucity of material from earlier periods, but it is primarily the result of a conscious choice. An important reason for concentrating speciﬁcally on etiologies of disease was that I felt, and still feel, that the British anthropologist Evans-Pritchard was right when, in his classic book Nuer Religion, he concluded that the test of what is the predominant motif in a religion is usually, or perhaps always, to what sickness and other problems are attributed, and what steps are taken to avoid or eliminate them.12 In an essay on recent changes in anthropological approaches to the study of African misfortune, Susan Reynolds Whyte concludes that a basic shift has occurred: Aﬄiction, which was once dealt with in monographs on African religion and cosmology, now seems to belong to the realm of medicine and medical anthropology. What we knew as divination now appears to be diagnosis; what we analysed as ritual is termed therapy. The victim of supernatural forces is called the patient, and his or her relatives the therapy managing group. Ritual specialists have been discovered—by both development aid organizations and the African press—to be ‘traditional healers’. One is tempted to speak of the medicalization of African religion.13

While rightly concluding that studies of misfortune focusing on religious and social dimensions have not outlived their usefulness, but are continuously an absolutely central problem,14 Whyte remarks that medical 11 It should be added, though, that even in ﬁeld reports scholars surprisingly seldom provide names and other information about their informants or interviewees. One of the reasons for this anonymity is the safeguarding of them. However, it renders the critical use of sources more diﬃcult; and even in those cases where scholars feel that anonymity is necessary, it is possible to elaborate on individual variations and provide information about the (anonymous) informants. 12 Evans-Pritchard 1956: 315. See also, e.g., Wijsen & Tanner (2000), who argue that the religious practices of the Sukuma ‘originate from the misfortunes they experience in their lives’. 13 Whyte 1989: 289. See also Last (1984: 14) who argues that the medicalization of the vocabulary marks a redirection of interest away from causes of illness and other kinds of misfortune towards the patient and his or her body. 14 This is stressed by, among others, Good (1987: 14 f.).

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anthropology emphasizes two dimensions that have often been missing in earlier anthropological works on religion. One is the analytical autonomy of the suﬀering body and mind, which often serves as a particularly compelling motivation for thought and action, whereas the other dimension necessitated by medical anthropology is an appreciation of larger historical processes. No single ‘ethnomedicine’ exists in isolation, and all modes of dealing with aﬄiction must be contextualized. Interpretations of sickness can be assessed as keys to religious transformations of the most basic order.15 This may provide a meeting place for historians of religion who focus on processes, that is, historical studies of African religions, and some scholars who specialize in medical anthropology. Like African indigenous religions, African medical ideas and practices are not self-contained systems but rather characterized by inclusiveness and pragmatism. Therapeutic ﬁelds can be extremely diverse, and an ethnic group rarely, if ever, has a single coherent set of medical practices.16 While concentrating primarily here on religious aspects of African etiologies of disease among the ﬁve peoples concerned, a multi- and interdisciplinary openness is crucially signiﬁcant in this ﬁeld of study. As argued by C.M. Good, there seem to be few realms of inquiry that demand a greater commitment to interdisciplinary perspectives.17 Such a commitment is one of the characteristics of this book. The multi- and interdisciplinary interests are manifested in the structuring of the theme, in the literature used—which is derived from several disciplines—as well as in the eclectic analyses.18 While the main focus is religio-historical, insights from the disciplines of history and ethnography/anthropology in particular are important too.

15

Whyte 1989: 299 f. In a recent book, Whyte (1997: 224) has argued that ‘some of the most interesting new ethnographies of experience highlight the indeterminate nature of life and show the problems of capturing what they are trying to study in analytical concepts and systematic representations’. See further, e.g., Pool 1994: 17 and Feierman 1995: 78. 17 Good 1987: xiv. For some important works that focus on the interrelationship of illness and culture, see Kleinman 1980; Hahn 1995; and Dahlin 2002: 43 ﬀ. 18 The eclectic, non-dogmatic and exploratory character of the discussion is partly inspired by, among others, Droogers (1985) and Fabian (1985). 16

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Some key concepts Following G.M. Foster, most non-western disease etiologies can be accounted for by two basic principles, termed ‘personalistic’ and ‘naturalistic’. If illnesses are thought to be caused by the active, purposeful intervention of human and suprahuman agents, they are personalistic, while naturalistic etiologies refer to natural forces or conditions.19 I ﬁnd this typology useful, even though, as I have argued in a previous study,20 there appears to be no rationale for diﬀerentiating, on grounds of principle, ‘non-western systems’ from western ones. All medical systems are rooted in speciﬁc historical and cultural contexts, and the two principles discussed by Foster are found in the west too. There are, for instance, western Christians who believe in evil spirits as agents of disease. The personalistic principle can also be found in ‘scientiﬁc’ medicine.21 Biomedicine has a naturalistic character, but a more personalistic orientation is found in social medicine and medical psychology. Curative medicine, on the one hand, focuses on biology and the individual, while prevention and public health, on the other, are more concerned with social groups.22 ‘To simplify somewhat, the biomedical paradigm tells us that, for example, tuberculosis is “caused” by Myobacterium tuberculosis, whereas the behavioral science paradigm tells us that tuberculosis is “caused” by poverty and malnutrition.’23 However, human beings are simultaneously cultural and biological creatures, and the two dimensions necessarily interact, in the west as well as in Africa and elsewhere. For the purposes of this study on African indigenous etiologies of disease, I will split Foster’s personalistic category into two. In order to designate three ideal types of etiology, and, in accordance with the deﬁnition of religion referred to above, I will use the concepts religious (supra-human), social (human) and natural (mainly physical). The ﬁrst category presupposes a belief that human beings are inﬂuenced by or dependent on certain suprahuman or spiritual entities or powers, who/which may or may not be conceived of in personalistic terms. Among many African peoples, spirits of ancestors play important roles.

19 20 21 22 23

Foster 1976: 775 ﬀ. Cf. the earlier study by Rivers (1924: 7–8). Westerlund 1989: 178. On the issue ‘why medicine cannot be a science’, see Munson 1981. See further, e.g., Janzen & Feierman 1979: 242. Romanucci-Ross, Moerman & Tancredi 1983: viii.

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Here I follow the religio-phenomenological convention of assigning these spirits, the ‘living dead’ in Mbiti’s terminology, to the world of religion. They are certainly human beings, and their living relatives’ relationship to them has both religious and social functions. Yet, as spiritual beings, ancestors are qualitatively diﬀerent from living humans. Thus, I agree with, among others, Brain and disagree with Kopytoﬀ, who argues that African ancestors are above all elders to be understood in terms of the same category as living elders.24 Social, or human, causation here refers to relations between living human beings, which in Africa often entail a supranormal dimension. For want of better words, I will use the terms witchcraft, sorcery and witchery when referring to certain important phenomena in this category.25 A better precision can be achieved by utilizing indigenous African concepts, which will also be done, but in a comparative study like this analytical terms are indispensable. The classical distinction, made by Evans-Pritchard, between witches with an inherent supranormal power and sorcerers who use various techniques or ‘medicines’ in order to harm others, is (only) sometimes applicable, as in the case of the Azande studied by Evans-Pritchard himself.26 The term witchery will be used when there are references to both witchcraft and sorcery.27 Another important example in the category of social causation of disease is the curse. As will be shown later, curses, as well as blessings, are often seen as powerful means for inﬂuencing the state of health of human beings. The third category, natural or mainly physical causes of disease, refers to the eﬀects of entities of nature, such as insects, germs, natural substances, forces or conditions like certain food, lack of sleep, cold weather or a destroyed equilibrium of some basic elements

24 Brain 1973; Kopytoﬀ 1971. While anthropologists have concentrated mainly on the social function of the belief in and cult or veneration of ancestors, scholars of religion have largely accentuated the religious function. 25 Cf., e.g., MacGaﬀey 1980: 304 and Axelson 1983/84. 26 Evans-Pritchard 1937. 27 It is interesting to note that, although African scholars of religion, for good reasons, have replaced many terms used by western scholars to designate various aspects of African religions and cultures, they have continued utilizing the concepts of witchcraft and sorcery. These words are also common in popular usage in Africa. In particular, the term witchcraft is employed when references are made to diﬀerent manifestations of the harmful use of supranormal power. As remarked by Geschiere (1997: 14), scholars would isolate themselves from daily discussions in the societies concerned should they stop using terms like witchcraft and sorcery.

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in the body. With the exception of the breaking of taboos regarding, for instance, food and sexuality, in which case the force that makes people sick is impersonal but not physical or biological, the natural aspects of African ideas of illness causation have often been overlooked in works by, among others, scholars of religion and anthropologists. Natural causation of disease is not a main focus of this study either, but there is at least a brief appendix on that. If limited, the notes on such causation are important in order to avoid distorted or onesided depictions of African etiologies of disease.28 As will be seen, my ‘etic’ categorization of disease etiologies may correspond more or less directly to ‘emic’ conceptual categories of causality.29 By contrast, the distinction made by some scholars in medical anthropology between ‘disease’, the specialist diagnosis of sickness, and ‘illness’, the personally experienced state of being sick, which may or may not coincide with disease, seems to presuppose the consideration of a biomedical system. In any case, I have not found this distinction very useful for the purposes of this study. Hence disease and illness, as well as sickness and aﬄiction, will be used as interchangeable terms. It should be emphasized repeatedly that the etiological categories utilized here are ideal types and that, in practice, there are many overlappings. Ideas of causes of illnesses, thus, tend to be multifactorial rather than unifactorial. In other words, religious and social disease explanations often overlap observations of natural causes. Moreover, it is common to think in terms of ‘ultimate’ causes beyond more directly observable ones, especially in cases of incurable and serious illnesses or when a natural therapy proves ineﬀective. Then questions of ‘how’ are supplemented with the questions ‘why now’ and ‘why me’. The answers usually involve references to spiritual beings or other living humans. Multiple causal modes and combinations co-exist both in African societies and in the thoughts of individuals.30 28 Cf. Pool (1994: 1) who, in my view simplistically, argues that there is an overemphasis on naturalistic etiologies and practical activity, which he sees as biomedically determined constructs imposed on African cultures. 29 See also, e.g., Yoder 1981: 241 and Feierman 1985: 79. 30 In my essay ‘Pluralism and Change’ (Westerlund 1989), I discuss critically some diﬀerent views advanced by Horton (1967) and Augé (1986). In another study (Horton 1982), the former revised some of his previous ideas about the ‘closed’ predicament of ‘African traditional thought’. Concerning this discussion, see further, e.g., Gillies 1976: 391 f.; Janzen 1981: 188 ﬀ.; Last 1981: 389 ﬀ.; Comaroﬀ 1982: 60 f.; Feierman 1985: 76; Morris 1987: 306.

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The main disposition of the book will follow the categorization of disease etiologies. Thus, I will ﬁrst present religious aspects of illness causation among the ﬁve peoples concerned. Secondly, the issue of living human agents of sickness will be treated. Thirdly, there will be an eclectic historical and comparative analysis of possible reasons for a gradual major shift from spiritual beings to living humans as causes of aﬄictions—indicated already by the sub-title of the book. Considering the gradually increased signiﬁcance of human agents of disease, this analysis will pay much attention to socio-historical factors as well as to wide socio-economic and political contexts. Finally, notes on natural causation will be presented in an appendix. Notes on Method and Material Although, given the scope, the use of sources and literature for this study has to be quite selective, there is a striving for Grundlichkeit. As argued by Pouwels, a wise historian draws upon as wide a range of information as possible in his or her historical interpretations.31 In particular, comparison of much material is an important way of dealing with the inherent limitations of ﬁeldwork studies, which are usually based on information from a very restricted number of informants and often depict an ‘ethnographic present’.32 The bulk of the material used here is scholarly literature, published as well as unpublished, and written by non-African and African scholars with more or less detailed knowledge of the peoples concerned.33 However, much material also comes from several European mission archives, especially the ethnographically most valuable archive of the White Fathers in Rome. Besides, there are many works written by authors who have not been scholars but, for example, missionaries and travellers. When using such a variety of material with the main purpose of coming as close as possible to insider or ‘emic’ positions, it is essential to pay attention to the historical method of source criticism. Hence criteria such as nearness, dependency and bias will be considered. Since there is a functional view of the material, in principle no diﬀerence will be made between non-scholarly works and scholarly literature 31

Pouwels 1987: 17. See also Widlok 2001: 367 and Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 186. Cf. Sullivan 2001. 33 For a study on the increasing signiﬁcance of scholarly works by Africans on religions in Africa, see Platvoet 1996. 32

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as sources. In particular, the problem of bias or presuppositions of the authors who have produced the indirect accounts of African indigenous conceptions of disease causation will be repeatedly discussed. All kinds of accounts or discourses are dependent on certain ideohistorical contexts, and one of the advantages of drawing on as wide a range of material as possible is that this makes more or less hidden presuppositions more easily discovered.34 San The diﬀerent groups of San ﬁgure to a varying degree in scholarly works. Whereas the main groups have been treated extensively, much less attention has been devoted to the smaller ones. The Kung and Nharo, who are most in focus here, belong to the former category. In particular, much has been written on the Kung. Among the older sources, those by Passarge, Vedder, Dornan, Bleek, Lebzelter and Schapera have been especially useful.35 One of the problems with the works by Passarge and Dornan is that they are often unclear as to which groups of San their information concerns. Much of the information in the geographer Passarge’s book Die Buschmänner der Kalahari (1907) is derived from an Nharo (Aikwe) man, who was Passarge’s servant when he travelled in South Africa in the late 1890s. Passarge makes frequent use of literature too, but that material is not clearly diﬀerentiated from the oral material, and precise references to the various written sources are lacking. Not surprisingly, his descriptions of the San are coloured by the prevailing views of them as being ‘uncivilized savages’. Regarding their language, for instance, he says that it gives such a strange impression ‘that it can hardly be recognized as a human language’.36 The attitudes of Dornan and Vedder, who were both missionaries, are somewhat more sympathetic. Dornan writes primarily about San in the Kalahari and other parts of what is now Botswana. Some of 34 Cf. MacGaﬀey 1981: 263 and McKenzie 2002: 111 ﬀ. For an important historiographic and religio-historical study in this ﬁeld, which focuses on African material, see van Rinsum 2001. Cf., e.g., the broader work Braun & McCutcheon 2000. See also note 3 above, where some of my own contributions in this area are listed. Further, in recent years the signiﬁcance of ‘reﬂexivity’ has been strongly emphasized among anthropologists. Cf. Widlock 2001. 35 Passarge 1907; Vedder 1912 and 1937; Dornan 1925; Bleek 1928 and 1929; Lebzelter 1928 and 1934; Schapera 1930. 36 Passarge 1907: 17.

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his information stems from Tswana informants, and he is frequently vague in his references to sources. Hence expressions such as ‘I have heard of . . .’ abound in the work by Dornan.37 Unlike Passarge and Dornan, as well as many others of the older authors, Vedder refers speciﬁcally to one particular group of San, namely the Kung of present-day Namibia. Vedder maintained contact with some Kung for a period of about ten years. As concluded by Thurner, his publications are ‘good sources with much information’.38 Like her father, W.H.I. Bleek, Dorothea Bleek was one of the best-known and most proliﬁc specialists on the San. She was interested primarily in linguistic studies but made substantial ethnographic contributions as well.39 Viktor Lebzelter spent about two years (1926–1928) in the ﬁeld and was supported by, among others, German and Finnish missionaries. He studied several groups of San but concentrated particularly on the Kung in the area of Grootfontein in present-day Namibia. In addition to his often brief direct contacts with Kung, he used written sources of diﬀering value, particularly accounts by oﬃcers in the German colonial troops.40 The cautious remark by Schapera that Lebzelter ‘cannot be entirely freed from a suspicion of prejudice in favour of the monotheistic doctrine associated with the name of Pater W. Schmidt and his school of disciples’ seems appropriate, although Lebzelter was not a dogmatic follower of Schmidt.41 Schapera’s own standard work, The Khoisan Peoples of South Africa, is an impressive and most valuable survey of the older material. He used virtually all the relevant writings that were available before the publication of that book in 1930. A renowned ethnologist, his summary is critical and rich in terms of interesting reﬂections. Among more modern works, those by Marshall, Lee, Köhler, Guenther, Heinz, Barnard, Katz and Thurner have proved particularly valuable.42 Marshall, who together with her family and others studied the Kung of the Nyae Nyae region in eastern Namibia, collected

37

Dornan 1925. Thurner 1983: 88. 39 The work that is of greatest interest here is the book on the western Nharo (Bleek 1928). 40 Cf. Lebzelter 1934: 3. 41 Schapera 1930: 191. Cf. Thurner 1983: 96. 42 Marshall 1962 and 1969; Lee 1967, 1968 and 1984; Köhler 1971, 1978 and 1978/79; Guenther 1975, 1975/76, 1979, 1986 and 1999; Heinz 1975; Barnard 1979 and 1988; Katz 1982; Thurner 1983. 38

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her ﬁeld material mainly in the 1950s. At that time these Kung still lived fairly isolated from Bantu and white people. Her essays on ‘!Kung Bushman Religious Beliefs’ (1962) and ‘The Medicine Dance of the !Kung Bushmen’ (1968) are exceedingly informative. Like Marshall, Lee is one of the most knowledgeable and proliﬁc anthropological specialists on the Kung San. The works by Lee used in this study are based on ﬁeldwork carried out among the Dobe Kung in the 1960s and 1970s. The Dobe area is in the Kalahari Desert of north-western Botswana, not very far from the Nyae Nyae region on the other side of the border. Another scholar who has co-operated with Lee and studied the Dobe Kung is Katz, a psychologist whose book Boiling Energy: Community Healing among the Kalahari Kung (1982) is a most informative study, although the author spent only about three months in the ﬁeld. A new collection of San folklore is Living Legends of a Dying Culture: Bushmen Myths, Legends and Fables (1994), which has been edited and illustrated by Fourie. An important recent, and more general, work on the San is the historically oriented book The Bushmen of Southern Africa: A Foraging Society in Transition (2000), jointly written by Smith, Malherbe, Guenther and Berens. In recent decades the outstanding German linguist Köhler has studied intensively the language and culture of the Kxoe San in the Caprivi strip of Namibia. In comparison to the Nyae Nyae and Dobe Kung, the Kxoe have been more inﬂuenced by surrounding Bantu cultures. Hence it is interesting to compare their conceptions of disease causation to those of the Kung. Another example for comparison is provided by Heinz, who has spent much time among the Ko (Xo) San in south-western Botswana. The studies of Guenther and Barnard concern the Nharo San. The anthropologist Guenther has studied hunting-gathering as well as farm Nharo in the Ghanzi district of western Botswana. His works are much concerned with religious and historical issues. Thus, his studies are of great interest here. Whereas Guenther’s material refers to the eastern Nharo, Barnard’s studies concern, in particular, the central Nharo.43 Regarding the San, the only archival material referred to in this book are some diaries written by M. Gusinde in the early 1950s, 43 For more detailed information about most of the scholars referred to here, as well as about several others, see Thurner 1983: 65–102. Thurner’s book Die transzendenten und mythischen Wesen der San (Buschmänner), published in 1983, is an extensive work based on religio-ethnological analyses of historical sources.

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now kept in the archive of the Anthropos Institute in St Augustin near Bonn in Germany.44 Like Lebzelter, Gusinde was supported by Father Schmidt. Much of his ﬁeld material, which was collected particularly among Kung and Kxoe (Hukwe), has been published, and some of these publications have been used here. Maasai For various reasons, the Maasai have fascinated a great many scholars. Hence a good number of sources is available.45 However, few of these are speciﬁcally concerned with religious issues, and even fewer of them deal primarily or exclusively with etiologies of disease. In gathering written material on Maasai ideas on agents of illness, it has thus, virtually throughout, been necessary to extract such information from sources which deal primarily with other topics or which are more general in terms of contents. It seems appropriate to begin these notes about important sources on the Maasai with a reference to Merker’s classical study Die Masai: Ethnographische Monographie eines ostafrikanischen Semitenvolkes (1904). This is a voluminous work, based on several years of ﬁeld experience, which has frequently been cited by other scholars. Yet it must be read with great caution. As indicated by the title of the book, Merker held that the Maasai were a Semitic people who had immigrated to East Africa. To some extent this theoretical bias distorted his presentation of the Maasai religion. In Merker’s view, this monotheistic religion was completely diﬀerent from the religions of neighbouring peoples, and so very similar to Judaism that a Semitic origin had to be assumed.46 Another substantial classical study is Hollis’s The Masai: Their Language and Folklore (1905), although this has not been used very

44 I have, however, come across some published but rarely used material, such as the studies by Mogg (n.d.) and Estermann (1949), in mission archives too. 45 For a valuable bibliography of older material, see Mol 1978: 177–190. 46 Although Merker exaggerated the similarities between Maasai religion and Judaism, it cannot be denied that they do have several elements in common. However, these can probably best be understood in a religio-typological perspective. Some authors have argued that Merker’s exaggerated views are explained by contacts with informants who for a long time had been inﬂuenced by Christianity. See, e.g., Johnston 1915: 482 and Voshaar 1979: 320.

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much here.47 More important to this study of agents of disease is Fokken’s essay ‘Gottesanschaungen und religiöse Überlieferungen der Masai’ (1917). Fokken, who spent many years as a Lutheran missionary among Arusha and pastoral Maasai in German East Africa, was one of the best-informed early students of Maasai religion and culture. Some other missionaries have also made signiﬁcant contributions to the study of the Maasai. In the archive of the Leipzig mission I excerpted unpublished and published missionary material of relevance to my work. In addition to the essay by Fokken, the studies of Blumer and Buchta proved to be of particular value. Even though it is a compilation, and coloured by its clear theoretical bias, Father Schmidt’s overview of Maasai religion in the seventh volume of Der Ursprung der Gottesidee (1940) is a useful work too. It summarizes the most important early sources and contains a valuable critical discussion of these sources.48 Regarding more recent material, the most substantial works are, paradoxically, also the least accessible because they are unpublished. Two unpublished doctoral theses by Jacobs and Galaty, respectively, both of which are based on extensive ﬁeld research and deal with the pastoral Maasai, have been quite useful, although neither of them is concerned primarily with religious issues. To the best of my knowledge, the most comprehensive study of Maasai religion is another unpublished doctoral thesis, written by Voshaar, who before writing his thesis spent twelve years as a Catholic missionary among Maasai in Kenya. In 1977 and 1978 he, moreover, carried out proper ﬁeld research during a year in Kenya and Tanzania. Eight of those twelve months were spent among pastoral Maasai and agriculturalist Arusha in Tanzania.49 Voshaar’s thesis contains some theological discussions, but it has primarily a descriptive, phenomenological character. It comprises a wealth of new information. Further, much new material on Maasai religion is also presented in a fourth major unpublished work, written by Olsson, a historian of religion.50 This material,

47 Hollis’s book is largely a collection of texts (stories, proverbs, riddles and songs). His pioneering collection has subsequently been supplemented with many others. See, e.g., Fuchs 1910; Fokken 1914; Massek & Siddai 1974; Olsson 1975; Hauge 1979; Olsson 1982a; Kipury 1983. 48 Schmidt 1940: 325–333. 49 Voshaar 1979: 5 f. 50 Olsson 1975, 1982a and 1982b.

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largely in the form of texts, has been collected during some periods of ﬁeld research among pastoral Maasai in Kenya. My account of the Arusha derives largely from unpublished sources too. In addition to the earlier works by German Lutheran missionaries, referred to above, there are some very interesting theses and other studies by mainly Maa-speaking students and scholars at the Lutheran Theological College Makumira, near the town of Arusha.51 In this category, the works of Kimerei, Benson, Marari and Landei are especially valuable.52 With the exception of, in particular, some works by the anthropologist Gulliver,53 there are few substantial publications available on the culture and religion of these agricultural Maasai. In 1989, Hurskainen, Olsson and Århem simultaneously published thought-provoking essays on Maasai ideas of illness and healing; and six years later Sindiga published a more descriptive account of ‘Maasai traditional medicine’.54 These are important examples of the few specialized studies in this ﬁeld. Hurskainen’s more extensive study on the Parakuyo Maasai in Tanzania and Spencer’s work on the Matapato Maasai of Kenya have been valuable, even though they are not primarily concerned with religion or concepts of disease.55 This may also be said about Peron’s more recent book L’Occidentalisation des Maasaï du Kenya.56 By contrast, Hauge’s study of several groups of pastoral Maasai in Kenya and Tanzania deals mainly with religious issues, but its quality is somewhat uneven.57 In 1998 Voshaar published an important book, Between the Oreteti-Tree and the Tree of the Cross, which is a study of the indigenous Maasai religion and, in particular, its encounter with Christianity.58 Sukuma The archival material that has been used in the account of Sukuma religion and disease causation is found in the archive of the White Fathers in Rome. For historians of religion this is perhaps the most 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58

Some of these studies concern pastoral Maasai in Tanzania too. Kimerei 1973; Benson 1974; Marari 1980; Landei 1982 and n.d. Gulliver 1963 and 1969. Hurskainen 1989; Olsson 1989; Århem 1989; Sindiga 1995. Hurskainen 1984; Spencer 1988. Peron 1995. Hauge 1979. Voshaar 1998.

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valuable of all mission archives. Many members of this congregation, which was founded in 1868, have been excellent specialists on African religions, languages and cultures. From the very beginning, the mission strategy of the White Fathers encouraged intensive studies of indigenous conditions in the mission areas of East Africa and elsewhere. Among other things, the missionaries were asked to document their ﬁndings in diaries and annual reports.59 This material has been important for the study of the older period, that is, the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. From a religio-historical point of view, however, the most valuable sources in the archive of the White Fathers are the answers to the ethnographical questionnaire of the early 1950s. This questionnaire, Table d’enquêtes sur les moeurs et coutumes indigènes, was prepared by the international leadership of the congregation. It was compiled by J. Mazé and sent out to the members in the various mission ﬁelds in Africa. In addition to the answers to the questionnaire from missionaries in Sukumaland, there are several unpublished manuscripts on Sukuma religion and culture. Father Hendriks, in particular, produced detailed accounts. Most of the material of the White Fathers is drawn from northern Sukumaland.60 In the University library of Dar es Salaam several manuscripts, as well as published works, by Cory, a well-known government sociologist in Tanganyika during British colonial rule, are deposited. Some material from these Cory collections has been used in this book. There are few specialized studies of religion and disease causation among the Sukuma. In the late 1960s, however, two doctoral theses in this ﬁeld were presented at the Catholic University of America. C.R. Hatﬁeld Jr completed his work, ‘The Nfumu in Tradition and Change: A Study of the Position of Religious Practitioners among the Sukuma of Tanzania, E.A.’, in 1968, while M.B. Reid’s study, ‘Persistence and Change in the Health Concepts and Practices of the Sukuma of Tanzania, East Africa’, was presented one year later.61 A more recent unpublished work, with a certain theological bias, is 59 See further Westerlund 1986a: 13. It is not always clear who the authors of the various diaries are. 60 For some more information on the archive of the White Fathers, see Westerlund 1986a: 14 ﬀ. 61 Another unpublished doctoral thesis which has been useful, although it is not primarily concerned with religion and etiologies of disease, is E.A. Welch’s ‘Life and Literature of the Sukuma in Tanzania, East Africa’, from 1974.

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A.M. Ng’weshemi’s ‘Mulungu: God in Sukuma Belief and Its Implications for the Church’ (1990). This work is based largely on interview material. Of published material, the numerous studies of the anthropologist and colonial civil servant R.E.S. Tanner are particularly important. Other signiﬁcant published works include Millroth’s Lyuba: Traditional Religion of the Sukuma (1965) and Brandström’s doctoral thesis, ‘Boundless Universe: The Culture of Expansion among the Sukuma-Nyamwezi of Tanzania’ (1990). An important contemporary specialist on the indigenous religion and Christianity in Sukumaland is the Dutch missiologist F.J.S. Wijsen, who has written, among other things, a monograph on popular religion and evangelization there.62 In the early twenty-ﬁrst century, he published two important books with Tanner. The ﬁrst, Seeking a Good Life: Religion and Society in Usukuma, Tanzania (2000) focuses primarily on religious aspects, whereas in the other, ‘I Am Just a Sukuma’: Globalization and Identity Construction in Northwest Tanzania (2002), religion is seen in a wide(r) historical and cultural perspective. Though published in 1967, R.G. Abrahams’s book, The Peoples of Greater Unyamwezi, Tanzania, is still a valuable introduction to the larger cultural region in which the Sukuma are found.63 Since the present book concentrates on the Sukuma, and particularly northern Sukuma, there are only a few references to the Nyamwezi proper. Comparative information on the Nyamwezi is based mainly on the classical works by Fr Bösch, a White Father, and the Moravian missionary W. Blohm,64 but some references to more recent articles will also be made.65 Kongo Concerning the Kongo, there is much material of missionaries and missionary ethnographers available. Both Protestant and Catholic sources and literature are used in this study. Most of the Protestant

62

Wijsen 1993. A classical overview of the Sukuma proper is D.W. Malcolm’s book Sukumaland (1953). Like Tanner, Malcolm was a colonial civil servant. 64 Bösch 1930; Blohm 1933. According to Brandström (1990, chapter 1: 9), the studies of Bösch and Blohm remain, in terms of ethnographic detail and insight gained from living and working among the people, unsuperseded until today. 65 Tcherkézoﬀ 1985; Blokland 2000. 63

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material utilized here has been produced by representatives of the Swedish Covenant Church. Of particular signiﬁcance are the ethnographic contributions made by Karl Laman, who was a missionary during a period of almost three decades (1891–1919). The archival material of Laman and other missionaries from the Swedish Covenant Church is now deposited with the National Archive in Stockholm. Here, however, it is basically some published material in Swedish and English that has been used. Much of Laman’s material is found in the four volumes of The Kongo, which were published between 1953 and 1968 by Lagercrantz in his series Studia Ethnographica Upsaliensia. These volumes are based on Laman’s ‘Etnograﬁska anteckningar’ (ethnographic notes), which in turn are based on a huge collection of notebooks (cahiers), written in the Kongo language by Congolese assistants who were independent of each other. When editing The Kongo, Lagercrantz used the Swedish material and, as a result, the work of the Africans was not very well presented. For instance, information about time and place of the original material is often lacking. Such shortcomings notwithstanding, The Kongo is a valuable collection of very detailed ethnography, which focuses primarily on the Sundi.66 In 1990, when this work was out of print, a new collection of Laman’s Kikongo texts, translated and edited by Wyatt MacGaﬀey, was published. Among Catholic missionaries specializing on the Kongo, the Jesuit van Wing was perhaps the most important ethnographer. His classical study Études Bakongo: Sociologie—religion et magie (1959) was ﬁrst published in two separate volumes, the ﬁrst of which appeared in 1921 (on sociology) and the second in 1938 (on religion and magic). Another classic work by a Catholic scholar is Hagenbucher-Sacripanti’s Les Fondements spirituels du pouvoir de Loango, République populaire du Congo (1973), which focuses, however, particularly on the Vili and the Yombe in the north-west. In addition to published works such as these, material from the archives of the Jesuits in Brussels and of the Holy Ghost Fathers in Chevilly, near Paris, has been used. Not only unpublished sources such as diaries and letters but also, and

66 Janzen (1972: 325 ﬀ.) argues that colonial ideas of homogeneous ‘tribes’ may be a cause for the harmonization of the information. This is possible, but it should be remarked that Lagercrantz did not have access to the original cahiers when he edited Laman’s notes for publication (Söderberg & Widman 1973: 351). See further, e.g., Axelson 1970: 32; Westerlund 1986: 10, 12.

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more importantly, articles in Catholic journals and magazines are found in these archives. The Jesuits published, for instance, Missions Belges de la Compagnie de Jésus and Revue Missionaire des Jésuites Belges. Among periodicals in the archive of the Holy Ghost Fathers that proved particularly useful was Les Missions Catholiques, which contains a large number of articles on the Loango area. Another Catholic mission periodical that has some material on the indigenous Kongo culture and religion is the Missions en Chine et Congo,67 published by the Sceut Fathers. In more recent decades a good number of scholarly works on Kongo religion and concepts of disease have appeared. Among African scholars, two of the most important are the sociologist T.K.M. Buakasa and the historian K. Mahaniah. In particular the former’s book L’Impensé du discours: ‘kindoki’ et ‘nkisi’ en pays Kongo (1973) and the latter’s La Maladie et la guérison en milieu Kongo (1982) are of much interest.68 Largely due to the missionary work of the Covenant Church there are several Swedish scholars who have carried out ﬁeldwork among the Kongo people. In 1979 Ragnar Widman, who organized the ﬁne mission archive of the Covenant Church in Sweden, published his Ph.D. thesis in the history of religions, Trosföreställningar i Nedre Zaire från 1880-talet. It provides an informative overview of Kongo religion, based on a vast amount of material, including many little-known Swedish and African works. The study by Widman, a former missionary, has a religionist and Christianizing tendency. A more radical Christian theology of continuity is represented by Å. Dalmalm, another former missionary of the Covenant Church, who in 1985 published her Ph.D. thesis L’Église a l’épreuve de la tradition: La Communauté évangélique du Zaire et le kindoki. This work is based on ﬁeld material from the Manianga area, which is about midway between Matadi, the coastal area of Zaire, and the capital Kinshasa. Even though it focuses on the attitudes of the Zairean sister church of the Covenant Church, her discussion of the problem of kindoki,

67

In 1915 it was renamed Missions de Sceut. Buakasa’s book focuses primarily on the Ndibu, but he stresses the similarities between the various Kongo sub-groups. Mahaniah gathered his material both in villages and in Kinshasa. Among other works of special interest here are the two unpublished theses by P.-A. Pambou (1979–80; 1980–81) and L. Dimomfu’s long essay ‘L’Art de guérir chez les Kongo du Zaire: Discours magique ou science medicale?’ (1984). 68

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or witchery, is of interest also to scholars outside the ﬁeld of mission studies or church history, historians of religion and anthropologists, for example. A diﬀerent point of departure characterizes the works of the Swedish anthropologist Anita Jacobson-Widding. Her major study of Kongo culture and religion, Red-White-Black as a Mode of Thought: A Study of Triadic Classiﬁcation by Colours in the Ritual Symbolism and Cognitive Thought of the Peoples of the Lower Congo is a structuralist-inspired work on the symbolic meaning of colours. Although it draws largely on the ethnographic material of Laman and other Swedish missionaries, it does not focus on processes of change. A more historical approach is found in the works by the American anthropologists John Janzen and the above-mentioned MacGaﬀey. Like Dalmalm’s L’Église a l’épreuve de la tradition, Janzen’s book The Quest for Therapy: Medical Pluralism in Lower Zaire (1978) is based on ﬁeld material from the Manianga area. It is a pioneering work on medical pluralism in an African context. MacGaﬀey’s volume Religion and Society in Central Africa: The Bakongo of Lower Zaire (1986) is a broad study that deals primarily with the nineteenth century. Another important volume by MacGaﬀey is Kongo Political Culture: The Conceptual Challenge of the Particular (2000), where he holistically integrates perspectives of diﬀerent disciplines. Yoruba Since Yoruba culture and religion have interested a very large number of scholars, there is an abundance of material available. The material used here refers to virtually all parts of Yorubaland, but there is a certain preponderance of works on Oyo and Egba Yoruba. Many of the studies are based on information collected in and around the cities of Ibadan, Abeokuta and Ife. The oldest sources utilized here are from the archive of the Church Missionary Society. Missionaries from this society, who worked mainly among the Egba in or outside Abeokuta, wrote journals that occasionally include information on religion and disease causation.69 Some of the people associated with the Church Missionary Society also presented their experiences and knowledge in published form. Two important early

69

For a table of CMS missionaries and others, see McKenzie 1997: 561.

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examples are Samuel Adjai Crowther’s Experiences with Heathens and Mohammedans in West Africa (1892) and James Johnson’s Yoruba Heathenism (1899). In general, the unpublished and published works of the early Anglican missionaries are characterized by very critical and polemical views of Yoruba religion or ‘heathenism’. Their theology of religion was a theology of discontinuity, which coloured their presentations of Yoruba religion. The main title of Stephen Farrow’s book from 1926, Faith, Fancies and Fetich or Yoruba Paganism, indicates that he wrote in the same polemical vein. In this book he criticized the work of another early scholar, Richard Dennett’s classical Nigerian Studies or the Religious and Political System of the Yoruba (1910), which was reprinted in 1968, for having an anti-Christian bias.70 This is a questionable criticism, although Dennett’s book contains some evolutionist speculations and depicts the Yoruba as markedly ‘superior’ to their neighbours. Further, some useful material on Yoruba religion and medicine is found in Samuel Johnson’s The History of the Yorubas: From the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the Protectorate. This book was edited in 1921 by Johnson’s brother, Obadiah, who rewrote and edited the copious notes of his brother, which had been forwarded to England in 1899, two years before Samuel’s death. Several of the early authors who published studies on Yoruba religion, culture and history were Yoruba themselves, who through their contacts with the Church Missionary Society had received a western-style education. In 1948, another Yoruba writer, Jonathan Olumide Lucas, whose book was published by this society, issued his classical The Religion of the Yorubas: Being an Account of the Yoruba Peoples of Southern Nigeria, Especially in Relation to the Religion of Ancient Egypt. As indicated by the sub-title of this work, Lucas speculated about an Egyptian origin of the Yoruba. Yet his book contains a great deal of interesting information on Yoruba religion and ‘magic’. The archival material on the Oyo Yoruba that has been used here is made up of the answers to the questionnaire of the White Fathers.71 As a rule, Catholic Fathers who produced these answers in the 1950s were less conservative or polemical in terms of theology of religion than were the earlier missionaries of the Church Missionary Society.

70 71

Farrow 1926: 5. Table n.d.b.

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In comparison to the material of the White Fathers in Sukumaland, however, the Oyo material is much less detailed and of more uneven quality. In more recent decades, scholars of religion, anthropologists and others have produced a large number of publications on Yoruba religion and medicine. There are also many important unpublished works written by Nigerian scholars in Departments of Religious Studies, especially at the Universities of Ibadan and Ile-Ife. Many Nigerian scholars of religion have been inspired by the proliﬁc pioneer E.B. Idowu, particularly by his books Olódùmarè: God in Yoruba Belief (1963) and African Traditional Religion: A Deﬁnition (1973). One of the scholars inﬂuenced by Idowu is J.O. Awolalu, perhaps Idowu’s best-known disciple, who in 1979 published his book Yoruba Beliefs and Sacriﬁcial Rites. The works of Idowu and Awolalu, as well as of others on whom they have exerted an inﬂuence, are theologically coloured and based on a theology of continuity. Idowu’s studies in particular are also characterized by a nationalistic fervour. In general, Idowu’s and Awolalu’s works tend to present a uniﬁed or harmonized picture of Yoruba religion.72 More speciﬁc references to one particular group are found, for instance, in T.M. Oladapo’s Ph.D. thesis, ‘Traditional Healing among the Ife: A Yoruba Group in Nigeria’ (1984).73 Like Oladapo’s study, P.A. Dopamu’s extremely detailed Ph.D. thesis, ‘The Practice of Magic and Medicine in Yoruba Traditional Religion’ (1977), presented at the Department of Religious Studies, University of Ibadan, is based primarily on ﬁeld material. Dopamu collected his material in several localities in Oyo as well as in Ondo and Ogun states. Another broad and informative Ph.D. thesis, presented at the same Department, is O. Olukunle’s ‘Witchcraft: A Study in Yoruba Belief and Metaphysics’ (1979).74 As will be shown in chapter six, works by anthropologists like Morton-Williams, who outlines the religious features of the Oyo

72

See further Westerlund 1985: 26–38, 53 f. The author died before the time of presentation to the board. 74 At the time of my visit to Ibadan in October and November 1989, S.A. Osunwole’s Ph.D. thesis Healing in Yoruba Traditional Beliefs Systems (Institute of African Studies, University of Ibadan, 1989) was not yet available. However, I had access to some of his earlier papers, of which the one entitled ‘Witchcraft and Sorcery: A Study in Yoruba Beliefs and Medicine’ (Osunwole n.d.) proved particularly valuable. 73

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Yoruba,75 and Buckley, whose work was concentrated on the city of Ibadan,76 diﬀer essentially from most studies of Nigerian scholars of religion. Buckley’s book Yoruba Medicine (1985) gives the impression that suprahuman and human agents of disease are of little signiﬁcance. His presentation of the encyclopaedic knowledge of two Yoruba doctors or herbalists is certainly very interesting and elegant. Yet one wonders how representative these informants are. No matter how important and previously overlooked the herbalist aspects of Yoruba medicine may be, other studies show that there is much more to it than that. Other specialized works on Yoruba medicine and ideas of illness include Disorder Among the Yoruba: A Report from the Cornell-Aro Mental Health Research Project in the Western Region, Nigeria,77 Raymond Prince’s long essay ‘Indigenous Yoruba Psychiatry’ and Una Maclean’s book Magical Medicine: A Nigerian Case-Study.78 The report Psychiatric Disorder among the Yoruba is based on material from an area around Abeokuta. Most of the informants, who belonged to the Egba group, were Muslims and Christians, but almost none of them had completely rejected the indigenous Yoruba beliefs, and many clung to these as ‘the paramount truths’.79 Prince’s informants lived in Abeokuta, Ibadan, Ile-Ife and Ijebu-Odi or in villages close to these towns, while Maclean gathered her material basically in Ibadan. Another important study based on research in Ibadan is George E. Simpson’s detailed work Yoruba Religion and Medicine in Ibadan (1980). Whereas Prince’s and Maclean’s informants were mainly religious and medical experts, the majority of Simpson’s informants were ordinary people, most of whom were Christians and Muslims.80 One of the best-known western specialists on Yoruba religion and culture is Ulli Beier. His numerous publications in this and other Nigerian ﬁelds include the recent Auf dem Auge Gottes wächst kein Gras: Zur Religion, Kunst und Politik der Yoruba und Igbo in Westafrika (1999). 75

Morton-Williams 1964. Buckley 1976, 1985a and 1985b. 77 Leighton et al. 1963. 78 Prince 1964; Maclean 1971. 79 Leighton et al. 1963: 35. 80 In 1979, some valuable but shorter specialized studies of Yoruba medicine and disease conceptions were published simultaneously by J.A.A. Ayoade, R. Braito & T. Asuni and N.M. Wolﬀ in the collective volume African Therapeutic Systems, ed. by Z.A. Ademuwagun et al. Among other studies of particular interest here, those by Asuni (1976) and Maclean (1976) may also be mentioned. 76

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Another well-known specialist on Yoruba religion is Peter McKenzie, whose large-scale work Hail Orisha! A Phenomenology of a West African Religion in the Mid-Nineteenth Century (1997) is an important example of the ethnographic and religio-historical usefulness of missionary archives, in this case primarily of the (Anglican) Church Missionary Society and secondarily of the Methodist Missionary Society. As indicated by the sub-title of McKenzie’s book, however, it deals with a period before or at the outset of the time frame of this study.81

81 For an interesting methodological debate about McKenzie’s book between J. Cox and McKenzie himself, see Cox 2001 and McKenzie 2002.

CHAPTER ONE

ETHNOGRAPHIC BACKGROUND Every tribe believes that its own habits and values are uniquely reasonable; ours is no exception.1 The idea of homogeneity is one that stems in part from anthropological studies based on ﬁeld work restricted by time, expense and the relatively static nature of relationships with a small number of informants.2

San In scholarly works on some related groups of people in southern Africa, ‘traditionally’ with a hunting-gathering mode of subsistence, the term ‘San’ has frequently been employed. For want of a better one I have used, and will continue using, that term in this book. The ‘San’ or ‘Bushmen’ do not have any general or collective name for themselves—both concepts are, or were originally, pejorative designations of outsiders.3 The word Bushmen was ﬁrst used by Dutch settlers, whereas San is a Khoi (‘Hottentot’) term, which may be translated ‘aborigines’ or ‘settlers proper’.4 In Botswana, one of the Bantu terms for San, ‘Basarwa’, is oﬃcially employed, despite its derogatory connotation.5 Although the short stature, click languages6 and traditions of hunting and gathering have constituted criteria for the habitual use, by scholars and other outsiders, of various overarching labels such as San, Bushmen and Basarwa, it should be stressed that we are here

1

MacGaﬀey 1997: vii. Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 187. 3 Guenther 1979: 102; Thurner 1983: 60. 4 Dornan 1925: 40; Schapera 1930: 31; Lee 1984: 9. 5 Guenther 1986: 9; Smith et al. 2000: 65. 6 Since this is a comparative study of ﬁve peoples, diacritical marks of click sounds are not included. Likewise, there will be no diacritical marks in the rendering of Yoruba terms later on. For information about San clicks, see e.g. Lee 1984: xvii and Thurner 1983: 63. 2

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26

dealing with a cluster of peoples who diﬀer considerably in physical as well as in cultural and linguistic respects. Some tall and darkskinned San in Angola, Namibia and Botswana have been referred to as ‘black’ in contrast to the short and ‘yellow’ San.7 Gusinde8 and Thurner, 9 among others, have repeatedly pointed to the great signiﬁcance of Bantu and other foreign inﬂuences on the San, particularly among the groups in the northern parts of the San area, which stretches from the Cape Province in the south, though the Cape San are now virtually extinct, to south-eastern Angola and western Zambia in the north. H.-J. Heinz rightly argues that, since ‘there are more diﬀerences between Bushmen tribes than there are resemblances’, scholars should always specify which groups of San they are referring to.10 On linguistic grounds, the San peoples or ‘tribes’ have been divided by scholars into three main clusters or groups. The northern cluster comprises, among others, the Kung and the Heiom (Heikum) of Namibia and Botswana as well as Angolan groups such as the Okung. In the central main group we ﬁnd, for instance, the Naron or Nharo, also referred to as Aikwe, and the Kxoe, or Hukwe, of Botswana and Namibia. The southern cluster, ﬁnally, include—or rather included, since most of the San in the southern areas have been almost completely exterminated—the Ko (Xo) of southern Kalahari, the Xam (Kham) of the Cape Province and other groups in the Transvaal, Lesotho and south-eastern Namibia.11 Economically, the San still include some full-time hunter-gatherers, although these are becoming increasingly rare.12 Other San are farmers and herders who mix their new farming and herding activities 7

Lee 1984: 10. See also Widlok 2001: 361. E.g., Gusinde 1952: 392, 401, 403; 1965: 38. 9 Thurner 1983: 63 f., passim. 10 Heinz 1975: 19. See also, e.g., Smith et al. 2000: 67 f.; Widlok 2001: 364. 11 Here I have relied mainly on Hirshberg (1975: 389) and Thurner (1983: 62). See also, e.g., Schapera 1930: 31–38. 12 The following introductory notes on the culture of the San, as well as on the Maasai, Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba later on, will not be documented in detail. These notes are included here primarily for the service of those readers who are not specialists in African cultural studies. For more details on the culture of the San, see e.g. Schapera 1930; Hirschberg 1975; and Smith et al. 2000; and for more specialized studies of the Kung and Nharo, see e.g. Marshall 1976, Lee 1984, Guenther 1986 and Guenther 1999. An introductory account of western writings on the San is found in an article by Guenther (1980), whose title, ‘From “Brutal Savages” to “Harmless People”’, neatly summarizes the conclusions of the article. 8

ethnographic background

27

with hunting and gathering. There is also a growing number of farm and migrant labourers. While, in the hunting-gathering type of culture, men are responsible for the hunting, it is mainly women who gather all kinds of edible vegetarian foodstuﬀ and insects. In the 1980s the San who lived by hunting and, more importantly, by gathering constituted a few thousand people only out of a total of some tens of thousands of San.13 Among the Kung there was at that time still a considerable number of hunter-gatherers, whereas the great majority of the Nharo occasionally or temporarily only returned to hunting and, more often, to gathering. Regardless of their main mode of subsistence, most San now live in very poor economic circumstances and are largely being exploited by other people. Socially, the ‘band’ or ‘camp’ has been, and often continues to be, a vital unit. A band consists of some tens of people, most of whom are closely related. As among the other peoples studied in this book, kinship is an important organizing principle of social life. However, friends and in-laws can be included in the bands too, and the group structure may be very ﬂexible. Many scholars have depicted San social relations, including relations between the sexes, as egalitarian. Accordingly, the San have a reputation for not being very competitive. There is still frequently a marked emphasis on sharing within the bands. Polygamy is not unknown but is very unusual. So-called tribes, such as Kung and Nharo, are essentially linguistic groups, not social or political units. The bands are autonomous, and institutionalized political oﬃces have been rare. What little political authority there may be is usually vested in older men rather than in headmen or chiefs. Land and hunting territory is not owned by individuals but by the bands. However, there are no special boundary marks between the areas occupied by diﬀerent bands, and neighbouring bands can come together or split apart for various reasons, like the availability of food and water. The Kung in Namibia and Botswana are the San group or ‘tribe’ that will be in particular focus in this book. Secondarily, the Nharo in Botswana will be studied in some detail too, whereas occasional references only will be made to other groups. A substantial number of the Kung are still hunter-gatherers, and this group of San has 13

It is impossible to give an exact number. In 1984, Lee’s professional guess was ‘close to 50,000’ (Lee 1984: 9), while a more recent estimate (Smith et al. 2000: 65) says ‘105,000 or so’. Cf. also Guenther 1986: 25.

28

chapter one

been studied extensively for a long period of time and by several diﬀerent scholars. Since the Nharo have been more strongly inﬂuenced by the cultures of neighbouring peoples, it is interesting to compare their conceptions of disease to those of the Kung. Although there is less source material available on the Nharo than on the Kung, the former also belong to those groups of San whose cultures are fairly well documented. In the modern historical period covered here, the conditions of the San have changed more or less dramatically. Dependence on other peoples, colonialism and incorporation into modern state apparatuses have ended in an almost total extinction of the hunting-gathering mode of life. In recent decades particularly, drastic impairments have befallen the Kung in Namibia. Many of them were recruited into the South African army, and unemployment, drunkenness and violence have become increasingly common aspects of life. In this situation there is a widespread breakdown of the custom of sharing. Even though considerable changes have occurred among Kung in Botswana too, these have been less drastic than those in Namibia. Among the Nharo the changes have been most extensive in the domain of economics, whereas the social features of life have retained much of the typical band pattern. Maasai The term ‘Maasai’ refers to some groups of people in southern Kenya and northern Tanzania. Whereas some scholars use this concept to designate all who speak the Nilotic Maa language,14 others prefer to leave out some ‘peripheral’ groups of Maa-speakers, for example Samburu in Kenya and Arusha in Tanzania. The word ‘groups’ here corresponds to the Maa word iloshon (sing. olosho), which is frequently translated ‘sections’ or ‘tribes’. These sections have their own names, territories, peculiarities of dress, hair-styles, weapons and so on. They also have their own observance of ceremonies and have not been politically united. The dominant section in the northern 14 In its strictest sense, the word ‘Maasai’ means ‘speaker of the language Maa’ (Beckwith & Saitoti 1980: 18). Maa is an introductory particle to questions, statements and speech in general, which draws polite attention to the speaker. As an introductory particle it entails attitudes such as respect, exitement, politeness and tenderness (Voshaar 1979: 17). See also Voshaar 1998: 56 f.

ethnographic background

29

parts of the area inhabited by the Maasai is Purko, and in the south it is Kisonko (Kisongo). As pointed out by Spencer,15 most writers have ‘overlooked the possibility of variation between the sixteen or so tribal sections’. Even recent scholars have tended to note that the Maasai do this or that, rather than noting, for instance, that the Purko Maasai do this or the Kisonko Maasai do that.16 More often, a broader distinction between pastoral Maasai and agricultural Maasai is made. Although this seems to be a fundamental and important distinction, which I will attempt to follow here, it should be remarked that it is not a precise one. Agriculturalists have livestock, and pastoralists occasionally have to supplement the pastoral food products with vegetable foods—their alleged dislike for agricultural produce has sometimes been exaggerated.17 Whereas my presentation of ‘pastoral Maasai’ is based on material from most of the mainly pastoral sections, the presentation of ‘agricultural Maasai’ is restricted basically to the Arusha section in Tanzania.18 In 1969, P.H. Gulliver estimated the rapidly growing number of the Arusha to be about 100,000;19 and in a more recent study the pastoral Maasai were estimated at about 300,000.20 Economically, cattle are the most important asset to pastoral Maasai. However, cattle play a central role not only economically but also culturally. According to a well-known myth, cattle belong to the Maasai by divine right, and raids to bring home ‘straying’ cattle

15

Spencer 1988: 2. Spencer’s book (1988) is unusual but worthy of imitation in that even the title indicates that it is a study of one particular section, the Matapato. 17 Voshaar (1979: 27) even holds that Maasai would be ‘quite horriﬁed’ to learn that they are supposed to abhore plant food. He adds that the eating of such food is ‘quite common now’, and that it was ‘not uncommon formerly’. See also, e.g., Orr & Gilks 1931: 22; Beckwith & Saitoti 1980: 29; Hurskainen 1984: 119; Sicard 1999: 81. Jacobs (1965: 30 ﬀ.) notes that the term ‘ilOikop’ has been used by ‘pure Maasai’ or ‘Maasai proper’ as a derogatory designation for Maa-speakers who have engaged in agricultural work, ﬁshing and hunting-gathering. The word ilOikop contains the root of the term enkop (ground, earth), but it can also be used with reference to dead or murdered people (Mol 1978: 52, 108; Voshaar 1979: 26; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 150). See also Voshaar 1998: 57 f. 18 As will be shown, there are in terms of religion and disease causation certain important diﬀerences between pastoral Maasai and Arusha. Although the diﬀerences between the various sections of pastoral Maasai are clearly less signiﬁcant, it is regrettable that, in most cases, the sources do not provide enough information for more detailed regional comparisons. 19 Gulliver 1969: 229. 20 Århem 1987: 4. Cf., e.g., Kronenberg 1979: 180; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 152. 16

30

chapter one

among neighbouring peoples have been a common feature of Maasai history.21 While sheep and goats are often slaughtered for food, cattle are reserved for rituals and ceremonial feasts. Milk is consumed on a daily basis, and during the dry season, when milk yields are low, it can be mixed with fresh blood from cattle. However, the consumption of blood has become increasingly rare. During the wet season, when suﬃcient grass and water can be found in most parts of Maasailand, the herds of the semi-nomadic Maasai are dispersed over large areas; but during the dry season they are concentrated near relatively few permanent sources of water. In the patrilineal social system there are two moieties, which are divided into clans. The clans, in turn, are divided into sub-clans. Apart from determining marriageability—exogamy now being practised basically on the sub-clan level—kinship is, however, of little signiﬁcance. Kin ties are usually less important than age peers or friends. The age-group organization plays a central role, although its importance was even greater in the past. The main divisions within this organization, which concerns the men only, are between young boys, warriors and elders. When a boy reaches adolescence, he is circumcised and becomes initiated into warriorhood. About seven years later, junior warriors are promoted to senior warriors, and after another seven years or so a ﬁnal major ceremony is held, marking the beginning of elderhood.22 Boys are responsible for the routine herding activities. Warriors, who used to live in separate villages, are expected to protect the life and property of the community members. In the past, but rarely nowadays, warriors fought enemies and carried out cattle raids. Elders, who are not seldom polygynous, wield the political, economic and religious power in the community. Some early western observers held that the iloibonok (healers or religious leaders), who will be studied in more detail in chapters three and, especially, seven, were chiefs and headmen.23 This was, however, a misunderstanding of their position and function. True, a few outstanding iloibonok have been politically inﬂuential, but that has been because of the weight of their personalities rather than because of their position as iloibonok. In principle 21

See, e.g., Hauge 1979: 79. Like warriorhood, boyhood and elderhood may be sub-divided into junior and senior grades, which are periods of about seven years each. 23 E.g., Krapf 1857: 440. Cf., e.g., the more recent work by Waller 1995. 22

ethnographic background

31

at least, there is no indigenous political authority above that of the elders. Even though women are not members of age-groups, they may be said to be attached to the various groups in that they are daughters, wives and mothers of men in their various groups.24 Unlike men, women usually marry at a very young age. Whereas boys are circumcised during communally strictly regulated periods with intervals of a few years, circumcision of girls is performed on an individual or private basis when they reach puberty. After circumcision, in the form of clitoridectomy, girls are eligible for marriage.25 Women, who are much dominated by men, do most of the work at home. Gathering material for houses as well as building them, fetching water and ﬁrewood, milking and distributing food and, above all, bearing and taking care of children are some of their duties. The land-oriented economy of the Arusha is the main diﬀerence from their cattle-oriented neighbours. As a settled and recognizable group, the Arusha community is about 200 years old. Small groups of Maa-speakers, who were refugees from Maasai internecine wars during the early nineteenth century, came to settle on the southwestern slopes of Mount Meru, where they established a new sedentary, agricultural community. To some extent their basically Maasai social, political and religious system gradually became inﬂuenced by the inﬂux of particularly Meru and Chagga immigrants, who came there as refugees or captives.26 Nevertheless, Arusha as well as pastoral Maasai have a reputation for being ‘conservative’. The latter in particular are frequently described as culturally exclusive and reluctant to accept changes. In terms of development eﬀorts the Maasai were largely ignored by the colonial authorities. The ‘capitalist’ rulers of post-colonial Kenya as well as the ‘socialist’ establishment of Tanzania have made strong attempts to initiate signiﬁcant changes in the lives of the Maasai, but in both cases with meagre results. The reluctance to abandon the ‘traditional’ way of life is seen in the religious sphere too. Despite protracted

24

Voshaar 1979: 62. For a detailed account of female circumcision, see Sicard 1999: chapter 6. 26 The Arusha language or dialect is quite similar to other Maa dialects, even though the pronunciation, in particular, has been inﬂuenced by Bantu languages (Hohenberger 1958: 16). See further, e.g., Voshaar 1998: chapter 2 (61–99). 25

32

chapter one

eﬀorts by various Christian missions, very few pastoral Maasai as well as Arusha have converted to Christianity.27 Sukuma The directional term Sukuma, which means north, is used as a selfdesignation of a people who inhabit an area south and south-east of Lake Victoria, mainly in the Mwanza and Shinyanga Regions of north-western Tanzania. They speak a Bantu language, and are, linguistically as well as culturally, closely related to their southern neighbours, the Nyamwezi. Today the Sukuma may number more than two million. They constitute the most numerous ethnic group of Tanzania.28 Sukuma may be seen as a generic name for people with diﬀerent origins, and it is important to keep the provisional nature and contextual relativity of such an ethnic label in mind.29 Moreover, like many other ‘tribal’ identities, ‘Sukumaness’ is a fairly recent invention. While people now speak about themselves as Sukuma, in the mid-twentieth century or earlier they referred to themselves by using clan names.30 Although my material refers to various parts of the large Sukumaland, at least the bulk of the archival sources are from the north. In comparison to Sukuma and especially Nyamwezi further south, the northern Sukuma have been less inﬂuenced by outside factors such as Islam and Arabs. During colonial rule great numbers of men in the southern area around Tabora worked as porters 27 The information on Maasai culture is based on, among others, the following works: Gulliver 1963; Jacobs 1965; Gulliver 1969; Ho et al. 1971: Galaty 1977; Voshaar 1979; Donovan 1982; Berg-Schlosser 1984; Århem 1985; Århem 1987; Voshaar 1998. There are many brief introductions to Maasai culture available, for example Sankan 1971; Salvadori & Fedders 1973; Kronenberg 1979: 171–177; Beckwith & Saitoti 1980; Kipury 1983: 1–9. 28 According to the last, or latest, national census report in which ethnic aﬃliation was recorded (1967), the Sukuma numbered one and a half million. However, in the early twenty-ﬁrst century, the ﬁgure six million(!) was given by Wijsen & Tanner (2002: 1). 29 This has also been stressed by, among others, Malcolm (1953: 43) and Brandström (1990: chapter 1: 2). For instance, it was not until the colonial period that Sukuma and Nyamwezi became established and perceived of as two distinct and separate groups. In some old writings the term Bagwe, which was not a self-designation, was used instead of Sukuma. See, e.g., Barthelemy 1905: 285; Gass 1973 [1919]: 385; Table n.d.a.: 2. 30 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 1.

ethnographic background

33

and were used to being on the move. For a long time Muslims and particularly Christians have tried to convert the Sukuma, but most of them have been slow to respond. According to Wijsen and Tanner (2000), about 85 per cent of them are followers of the indigenous religion, while the others are either Christians (13 per cent) or Muslims (2 per cent).31 In general, the Sukuma have had a reputation of being ‘conservative’.32 It may, certainly, be argued that there are important diﬀerences between various regions, social groups and individuals in Sukumaland.33 The issue of cultural variability is strongly stressed by Wijsen and Tanner.34 However, in comparison to the culture(s) of the (even) more highly dispersed San people(s) of southern Africa, the culture of the Sukuma people seems to be somewhat less heterogeneous. In 1897 Father Brard reported that the Sukuma were sedentary farmers who cultivated sorghum, potatoes, manioc, groundnuts and beans. Their tobacco was ‘excellent’, he felt. Brard added that there were many sheep and goats. Partly as a result of serious epidemics there were few cattle, although their number was on the increase.35 Later the number of cattle grew to such an extent that modern scholars have referred to the Sukuma as agro-pastoralists. Yet cultivation is still the main subsistence activity, even though animal husbandry is of great economic and social signiﬁcance, and cattle are not very fundamental to the religious and symbolic system.36 Currently, sorghum and maize are the main food crops, but millet, potatoes and cassava are important too. Cotton is the predominant cash crop. The old hoe-cultivation is now increasingly being replaced by oxploughing. The Sukuma have a tradition of living dispersed in small settlements, at least prior to the Tanzanian villagization process in the mid-1970s, which introduced some changes in this respect. Individual homesteads or clusters of homesteads formed neighbourhoods that varied in size from two or three to a few hundred. Neighbours collaborate in a wide range of activities such as house-building, agricultural 31

Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 10. See, e.g., Table n.d.a: 278; Itandala 1983: 16, 34. 33 Tanner 1967: 1; Brandström 1990: chapter 5: 30. 34 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 186 ﬀ., passim. 35 Brard 1897: 156. 36 Cattle are the most important means for accumulating wealth and are frequently used, for instance, as bridewealth in marriage transactions. 32

34

chapter one

work and rituals. People often move from one neighbourhood or village to another, and kinsfolk may be spread over a wide area. Budugu is a core concept in the Sukuma social system. It is an all-embracing concept that refers to the collectivity of living and dead kin as well as to the state of being a kinsman, ndugu (plur. budugu). Kinspeople may not marry each other. With the exception of some chieﬂy families, the Sukuma are patrilineal. Today kinship relations are less important than they have been. When the institution of chieftainship was introduced into Sukumaland, possibly about 300 years ago, it did not wholly replace the signiﬁcant gerontocratic organization of the society. Hence elders and associations of elders continued to wield great inﬂuence. The chiefs, batemi (sing. ntemi), came as strangers, and their rule was not autocratic. Elders and neighbourhood headmen were largely responsible for the choice of chiefs and for controlling their actions. Ineﬃcient chiefs could even be expelled from their chiefdoms. There were also associations of younger men who to some extent could resist or counterbalance the authority of the chiefs. Besides, the numerous Sukuma chiefdoms, governed by various chieﬂy dynasties, were not centralized but autonomous units. In the late 1890s Brard described the Sukuma chief as a ‘primus inter pares’.37 During colonial rule, however, when chiefs became dependent on foreign, centralized regimes, the local balance of power shifted in favour of the chiefs. They were now able to add to their primarily ritual functions important secular duties as, for example, judges and collectors of new taxes. Both the distribution of chieﬂy power and the selection of the chiefs ceased to be dependent for its functions on the people of the chiefdom. Shortly after the attainment of independence in Tanzania (1961), another important change occurred. In 1963 the new government abolished chieftainships altogether. Although to a limited extent certain ritual and other functions have continued to exist, and at times even been revived, the chiefs have lost most of their power or have entered the new administrative and political system on local or national level.38

37

Brard 1897: 155. Among sources or literature that have been used for the overview of Sukuma culture, the following may be mentioned: Table n.d.a.; Cory 1951; Malcolm 1953; Schans 1955; Abrahams 1967; Tanner 1970; Itandala 1983; Wanitzek 1986; Brandström 1990; Tanner & Wijsen 2000; Tanner & Wijsen 2002. 38

ethnographic background

35

Kongo In the early 1480s Portuguese sailors ‘discovered’ the Kongo kingdom, and because of this early and continued intrusion the history of the Kongo people is much better documented in written sources than is the history of other peoples in sub-Saharan Africa. Northwest of the Kongo area of western Central Africa was the less well-known Loango kingdom, formed by the Vili, with a closely related type of culture and religion. Both these areas and Bantu groups of people became subjected to a long-standing western and Christian missionary inﬂuence. Furthermore, large numbers of Africans were taken as slaves. Catholic missionaries belonging to several orders, including Jesuits and Holy Ghost Fathers, confronted the indigenous religion and attempted to win converts. In the late nineteenth century, when modern colonialism started, missionary endeavours expanded very considerably with the coming of various Protestant denominations, including Baptists and members of the Swedish Covenant Church (Svenska Missionsförbundet). In addition to the Catholic Church, the Swedish Covenant Church is of special interest here because several of its missionaries among the Kongo people, or Bakongo (sing. Mukongo), produced many written accounts of the indigenous culture and religion. The best known and most proliﬁc of these Swedish missionaries was Karl Laman. Established in 1885, the Congo Free State favoured a policy of assimilation of the Congolese to the same civil status as Europeans while, as of 1908, the Belgian Congo with its policy of ‘indirect rule’ created a more plural society divided between African and European sectors. Whereas Europeans controlled the bureaucratic and industrial institutions, Africans provided unskilled and semiskilled labour. In the 1960s the independent nations of Zaire and Congo were established. Today the majority of the Kongo people live in the province of Lower Congo in the Democratic Republic of Congo (formerly Zaire and, before that, Belgian Congo). Smaller groups live in the Republic of Congo (previously the French colony of Moyen Congo) and in Cabinda, a detached part of Angola (formerly a Portuguese colony). Altogether the Kongo people may number more than four million.39 39 See further, e.g., Axelson 1970: 203 ﬀ.; Vansina 1975: 652 ﬀ.; MacGaﬀey 1986: ix, 16, 40 f. Vansina 1975 is a useful, brief introduction to the history and culture of the Kongo people.

36

chapter one

The Kongo speak various dialects of the KiKongo language.40 They are divided into a number of sub-groups or major clans.41 Much of the material used here refers to the Sundi and the Bwende. Some sources and literature concern the Vili and Yombe in the north-western part of the greater Kongo area. However, other subgroups have not been left out, and in much of the material it has not been made clear which groups are presented. This vagueness is certainly a problem. Moreover, the Kongo have intermarried and largely interacted with and been inﬂuenced by neighbouring peoples.42 Yet many scholars, including the above-mentioned missionary ethnographer Laman and contemporary scholars like the sociologist T.K.M. Buakasa and the anthropologist Wyatt MacGaﬀey, argue that there is a basic uniformity or common cultural core that unites the diﬀerent sub-groups.43 MacGaﬀey, furthermore, stresses the similarities between the Kongo society and a host of neighbouring Bantu societies in Congo, Zaire and Angola.44 The Kongo live in both forest and savannah areas. The traditional economy is based mainly on agriculture, while hunting and ﬁshing play a subsidiary role. In addition to hunting and ﬁshing, men are responsible for slashing and burning, various crafts and tending orchards of palm and fruit trees. Hoe cultivation is practised by women who work hard in the ﬁelds but also do the cooking and raise the children. Root crops like manioc, groundnuts, maize, bananas and vegetables are important food crops. As domestic animals, goats, sheep, fowl and dogs may be found. Pigs and tsetse-resistant cattle also provide some protein. Important examples of craft specializations are weaving, basketry, pottery and, in particular, blacksmithing.45 Unlike the other peoples studied here, the Kongo have a matrilineal social system. Thus, lineages comprise matrilineally traced descendants of a common ancestress. Lineages have jural rights and

40 The etymology and original meaning of the word ‘Kongo’ is uncertain (Widman 1979: 29 f. Cf. MacGaﬀey 1986: 23). 41 See, e.g., Janzen 1978: 12; Widman 1979: 24 ﬀ.; Dalmalm 1985: 55, 58. 42 Vansina 1975: 651; Dalmalm 1985: 17. 43 Buakasa 1973: 11; MacGaﬀey 1986: 22 f. See also, e.g., Janzen 1972: 12; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 23. 44 MacGaﬀey 1986: 23. 45 Vansina 1975: 649, 661 ﬀ.; Janzen 1978: 13; Mahaniah 1979: 212; JacobsonWidding 1979: 23 f.

ethnographic background

37

obligations. As there are sub-clans, there are also sub-lineages. Leading members of a lineage may live on or near its land, but villages can have members of several descent communities. Today many of the Kongo live in urban areas. It has been estimated, for instance, that almost half the population of Kinshasa are Bakongo.46 Dalmalm has stressed the ‘hierarchical’ aspects of Kongo society and the signiﬁcance of seniority for authority and power.47 MacGaﬀey, however, has also emphasized certain ‘egalitarian’ aspects and the fact that cadets sooner or later may become elders. He remarks that it is from a male perspective that Kongo society can be seen as egalitarian, with no persistent social stratiﬁcation or concentration of power.48 A signiﬁcant hierarchical element of the Kongo tradition is the former existence of sacred kingship and chiefship. In addition to their politically leading roles, kings and chiefs had important religious functions. The centralized state was dismantled in 1665 by the Portuguese. Then autonomous chiefdoms existed until the end of the nineteenth century when new colonial states were established. During the colonial era there were still chiefs, but they gradually lost many of their old functions.49 What has remained, and still largely remains, is the basic system of Kongo government, the ad hoc interlineal committees of elders who co-operate to regulate marriage, divorce, funerals and disputes. Yet, ‘the image of chiefship still haunts this utterly decentralized system’, and ‘people talk as though there were hierarchies and chiefs’.50

46

Mahaniah 1980: 591. Dalmalm 1985: 59. 48 MacGaﬀey (1986: 24–34) discusses these issues in a historical perspective and focuses on the situation of the nineteeth century. ‘Because menstruation, regarded as polluting, was speciﬁcally incompatible with most titles and priestly functions, women only acceded to important roles in the process of social reproduction’ (ibid., 30 f.). See further, e.g., Buakasa 1973: 12 ﬀ.; Vansina 1975: 664 f.; JacobsonWidding 1979: 28 ﬀ.; Janzen 1979: 16, 20 ﬀ.; Mahaniah 1980: 591. 49 For a recent specialised study of Kongo political culture, focusing on material from the early twentieth century, see MacGaﬀey 2000. 50 MacGaﬀey 1986: 101. See further, e.g., Vansina 1975: 669; Mahaniah 1979: 210, 214, 219; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 85, 92; MacGaﬀey 1986: 17, 80, 102, 195 ﬀ.; MacGaﬀey 2000: 224 ﬀ. 47

38

chapter one Yoruba

Of the ﬁve peoples studied in this book, the Yoruba-speaking people are by far the most populous. Reliable recent statistics are lacking, but the estimates vary from some millions to about twenty million or even more. There is no clear-cut answer to the question of who is a Yoruba. As remarked by Daryll Forde, among others, the Yoruba unity is a unity of language rather than of culture.51 In terms of culture, there is much diversity. The Yoruba dialects are a cluster of the Kwa group of languages, and the Oyo dialect is the model for the written language, or ‘standard Yoruba’.52 The Yoruba-speaking groups of people live primarily in southwestern Nigeria, but some Yoruba speakers are found in other West African countries, including Benin and Togo. Certain similarities between Yoruba culture and some classical cultures, like the Egyptian one, caused some early scholars to ponder over an eastern origin,53 and some migrant legends point to the east as well. There are immigrant groups that have come from the east and intermarried with the Yoruba. However, cultural as well as physical and linguistic features indicate that the neighbours in the forest belt of West Africa are the most closely related peoples. According to Yoruba myths, the city of Ife is the cradle of the Yoruba people. Among the Yoruba, urban residence is a pre-colonial heritage, and the urban centres still trace their origin to Ife, which is regarded as the centre of Yoruba culture and religion. Myths of origin tell, further, that the Yoruba once formed a single political entity. Hence there is a mythical concept of political as well as cultural unity. There is no ﬁrm historical evidence, however, that the Yoruba ever formed a single political unit. In pre-colonial time the Yoruba referred to themselves by using sub-group names like Oyo and Egba.54

51

Forde 1951: 1. Yoruba is a tonal language. However, the tones—high, middle and low—will not be rendered here. See, e.g., Abraham 1958: x. 53 E.g., Dennett 1910; Lucas 1948. 54 The comprehensive term ‘Yoruba’, which may be derived from a Hausa/Fulbe nickname meaning ‘cunning’, was adopted by missionaries of the Anglican Church Missionary Society and is now used by the Yoruba themselves. See, e.g., Forde 1951: 1 and Bascom 1969a: 5. 52

ethnographic background

39

The indigenous Yoruba economy is based on sedentary hoe farming, craft specialization and trade. Cassava, yams, maize and bananas are main food crops, and cocoa is a particularly important cash crop. Farming is primarily men’s work, while many women engage in trade, which is a well developed system with a network of markets. Although people live in cities, they have farms, which surround cities. Secondary dwellings may be built on the farms, however, particularly if these are far away from the primary dwellings in the cities. In the highly complex Yoruba economy, specialized crafts include, among other things, weaving, dyeing, ironworking, brasscasting, woodcarving and leatherworking. The techniques of various crafts are known only to small groups of professionals and are often protected as secrets by religious sanctions. The Yoruba are perhaps best known to the world for their art: woodcarvings; the portrait heads known as ‘Ife bronzes’ in particular have made Yoruba artists world famous. The Yoruba kinship system is in practice strongly patrilineal, and rank or hierarchy is based on seniority among men. Clans and subclans are thus headed by the oldest male members. Clan members are considered blood relatives, and marriages between them are forbidden. Facial scariﬁcation is a way of marking clan membership. Although clans are important social and legal entities, the Yoruba do not have a narrowly kinship-oriented social structure. Like the economy, the social pattern is very complex and varied. Several groups and societies cut across kinship lines. For instance, there are secret societies, clubs for young people and separate societies for women and men. As is shown in chapter six, groupings may also be based on religious criteria. Politically, the traditions of sacred kingship have been important, and in certain ways they still are, although kings as well as chiefs have lost much of their political inﬂuence.55 In his presentation of the indigenous political structure of Ife, W. Bascom points out that, previously, the king was isolated in the palace, appearing in public only once a year.56 New kings from the royal patrilineal clan were selected by town and palace chiefs. Beneath these were other chiefs in a hierarchic system of intermediaries. Urban centres of various 55 The current signiﬁcance of kingship traditions is exempliﬁed, for example, in Olupona’s study of the Ondo Yoruba (Olupona 1991). For another important case study of Yoruba sacred kingship, see Pemberton & Afolayan 1996. 56 Bascom 1969a: 29 ﬀ.

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Yoruba groups still have a king as supreme authority or at least as a symbol of such authority. Contemporary Yorubaland is a complex mix of old and new. Under British colonial rule, until 1960, the Yoruba were subjected to the system of indirect rule, which meant that the indigenous Yoruba structure remained largely intact. Since the British hindered immigration of white settlers into this part of Africa, the Yoruba did not come under strong inﬂuence from a large alien population. Today the great majority of the Yoruba are Muslims and Christians. However, indigenous Yoruba traditions, such as those associated with the system of sacred kingship, are still quite important even to Muslims and Christians. In particular, such traditions survive among Suﬁ Muslims and members of the indigenous African churches. The Yoruba have, in general, a reputation for being successful in terms of co-operating across (formal) religious boundaries, and it is not very unusual to ﬁnd Yoruba families in which some members are Muslims, others are Christians and yet others are adherents of the indigenous Yoruba religion. In the current Nigerian situation, characterized partly by strong religious tensions, the longstanding Yoruba tradition of co-operation and ‘sharing’ across religious borders seems to mitigate the eﬀects of ‘fundamentalist’ Muslim and Christian inroads in Yorubaland.57

57 For this ethnographic survey of the Yoruba culture I have drawn on a number of sources, some of which may be mentioned here. In the series Ethnographic Survey of Africa, Forde published his short study The Yoruba-Speaking Peoples of SouthWestern Nigeria in 1951. A more detailed, and still very useful, survey is Bascom 1969a. In German, Schultz-Weidner’s chapter ‘Die Ostatlantische Provinz’ (SchultzWeidner 1979) in the second part of Die Völker Afrikas und ihre traditionellen Kulturen (H. Baumann, ed.), includes a presentation of the Yoruba culture. See also, e.g., Eades 1980 and Beier 1999.

CHAPTER TWO

HEAVENLY BEINGS AMONG THE SAN The sky is the dwelling place of all the divine beings and spirits in !Kung belief.1 Severe internal pain and sickness which make one feel genuinely ill all over . . . are called ‘sickness of the sky’.2

Introduction The religion of the Kung and other San diﬀers from most, if not all, other indigenous African religions in that, as a rule, it does not include any spirits of nature. Hence spiritual beings or divinities are not associated with trees, hills, rivers and other parts of the earth.3 Nor are the ancestors believed to be inside the earth, as is the case in some religions of agriculturalist peoples. The abode of the deities and spirits of the dead is above the sky that holds the sun, moon and stars. When referring to this abode, I will here use the term ‘heaven’. Among the Nyae Nyae Kung the category of diseases that are caused by heavenly beings is designated ‘sickness of the sky’ (kwi naa). Such heavenly diseases can manifest themselves in grave internal ailments of which people are aware, but they can also exist in a person without that person knowing it. This religious category of illness is distinguished from the other category, which includes mild, localized ailments, visible on the surface of the body, common aches and minor injuries.4 Before elaborating on the heavenly beings and their signiﬁcance as agents of disease, some general remarks on San religion should be made. In addition to the signiﬁcant religious diﬀerences between various groups of San, referred to in the Introduction, many scholars

1 2 3 4

Marshall 1986: 171. Marshall 1969: 370 f. Cf. Lebzelter 1928: 409. Marshall 1969: 370 f.

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have stressed the importance of individual variations within diﬀerent groups.5 There are remarkable variations concerning religious conceptions as well as with regard to intensity of belief. Similarly, versions of mythological and other tales may vary greatly.6 In one of his studies on Nharo San, Guenther has concluded: One fundamental feature about Nharo belief, and one [that is] shared with the belief patterns of Bushmen in general, is its multifarious, inchoate and amorphous quality. There is wide variation in the accounts provided by diﬀerent Nharo individuals when they describe the appearance and qualities of a supernatural agent. Nharo supernaturalism seems to be a confusing tangle of ideas and beliefs, marked by contradictions, inconsistencies, vagueness and lack of culture-wide standardization.7

One of the reasons for the individual, amorphous and ﬂuid character of San religion is the absence of priests or other religious functionaries rendering systematic and intelligible the complex of beliefs and transmitting these ‘packaged’ beliefs to other individuals and generations.8 Another reason is the lack of any formal religious education of San children, who are socialized primarily within multiage peer groups rather than by adults, thus developing their own idiosyncratic notions about religion. A third factor is the condition of mobility which isolates individuals and groups from one another over months or even years, resulting in localized religious traditions and the diversiﬁcation of the cognitive world. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that most San groups have lived in more or less close contact with neighbouring peoples, which has contributed to a shattering of their religious ideas. Paradoxically, however, such inﬂuences, in combination with decreasing mobility, new forms of education and other factors, have also led to a reversed process of increasing religious coherence and unity, which will be exempliﬁed later in this chapter. Even though Christian missionary work among the San has

5 For some examples, see Dornan 1925: 162; Bleek 1928: 25 f.; Lebzelter 1934: 56; Gusinde 1965: 38; Barnard 1979: 72; Barnard 1988: 229 f.; Tanaka 1980: 110; Lewis-Williams 1981: 77; Katz 1982: 29; Guenther 1999: 58 ﬀ.; Smith et al. 2000: 65. 6 See further, e.g., Lebzelter 1934: 24; Vedder 1937: 420 f.; Guenther 1979: 106; Marshall 1986: 172; Fourie 1994: 9. 7 Guenther 1986: 216. 8 Ibid.

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met with great obstacles, the inﬂuence of Christian ideas on San religion is another factor that must not be overlooked. In studies of this religion, the highly abstract concept of ‘religion’ and the tendency in much scholarly work to present African religions as well-structured, logical, coherent and uniﬁed become particularly problematic. Certainly, some elements of San religion are less varied and more agreed-upon than others, and my presentation will concentrate on these. I will also point out at least some of the variations concerning such central elements. Nevertheless, it should be borne in mind that much of the variety and richness of San religion will necessarily remain concealed. Another general characteristic of this religion is that it has little bearing upon economic and social life. Several scholars have stressed the extraordinary paucity of communal rituals, which contrasts vividly with many overgeneralized presentations of African religions as being particularly rich in terms of such rituals. Guenther even says that paucity of ritual is ‘the remarkable feature about traditional Bushman religion’ (my italics).9 As a rule, initiation rituals and trance dances are the only elaborate communal rituals.10 The former type of ritual will not be studied here, but the trance dance will be dealt with extensively in a special section, since the religious agents of disease ﬁgure very prominently in it. These agents are, ﬁrstly, God and a lesser deity or, in Thurner’s (1986) terminology, das transzendente Hauptwesen and das transzendente Nebenwesen. Secondly, there are the spirits of dead humans. God, the lesser deity and the spirits of the dead are the ‘heavenly beings’ who will now be presented in some detail. God the Creator Among the Kung there are several names for God. In the Nyae Nyae region, Marshall recorded seven divine names,11 some of which (for example, Hishe, Huwe and Gauwa) have been reported from other

9 Guenther 1979: 111. See further, e.g., Dornan 1925: 162; Bleek 1928: 27; Heinz 1975: 27; Guenther 1986: 251 f. 10 Initiation of girls is of particular importance. In a study of Nharo, Bleek (1927) assumes that the whole initiation ceremony for boys, which is less elaborate, has been borrowed from Bantu neighbours long ago. See also Guenther 1999: 167, 182; Smith et al. 2000: 85. 11 Marshall 1962: 223 ﬀ.

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areas too,12 and one earthly name (Gao na, Old Gao), which may also be the name of a male human being. Marshall says that God gave himself his names to praise himself.13 In his account of the Dobe Kung, Lee reports that God is called Gangwanana (cf. Gauwa above), which he translates ‘big big god’, and that there are other names too.14 Concerning Nharo, Barnard says that God is usually referred to as Nadiba, which otherwise means ‘sky’.15 Guenther uses the name Neri, which also indicates some association with the sky.16 ‘Nharo language poetically reﬂects this association: the words for sky and cloud are Neri ki (“Neri face”) and Neri oo (“Neri hair”) respectively.’ Other groups of San have other names for God.17 A number of these, apparently, are the result of inﬂuence from other African religions as well as from Christianity.18 Not surprisingly, Father Schmidt held that the most common ones were those that could be translated ‘Lord’ (Herr) and that, albeit less frequent than the name ‘Lord’, the name ‘Father’ (Vater) was important and ‘altbuschmännisch’.19 Even though Schmidt may have laid too much stress on the signiﬁcance of such names, other sources make it clear that they do exist. Regarding the Nharo, for instance, God is sometimes called xuba, which means ‘lord’ or ‘master’ in a religious as well as in a secular

E.g., Dornan 1925: 148 ﬀ.; Schapera 1930: 182 f.; Gusinde 1963/65: 37. Marshall 1962: 223. Barnard (1988: 223) suggests that the names mentioned by Marshall may be regarded as attributes of God. However, the origin of some of the names was completely unknown to Marshall’s informants. 14 Lee 1984: 107. 15 Barnard 1988: 221. Cf. Bleek 1928: 25. 16 Guenther 1986: 219. 17 For a survey of some of these, see Schapera 1930: 177–195. One much discussed example, outside the scope of this study, is the name Kaggen of the Xam in South Africa. This is also the name of the mantis, an insect that feeds on other insects and clasps its prey in forelimbs held up as if in prayer; and some early scholars drew the erroneous conclusion that San identiﬁed God with this insect. For some contributions to this discussion, see Stow 1910: 131 ﬀ.; Bleek 1929: 305 ﬀ.; Schapera 1930: 177 ﬀ.; Gusinde 1965: 37, 39; Holm 1965: 45 ﬀ.; Lewis-Williams 1981: 119. Schmidt (1973) is a more specialized study of this issue. Although the discussions have concerned the Cape San, in particular, that is not the only group with a name for God that is also the name for mantis. With regard to the Kung, who are of special concern here, see Lee 1984: 107. Cf. Marshall 1962: 222. 18 E.g., Schapera 1930: 190; Gusinde 1963/65: 37. 19 Schmidt 1933: 685. See also Lebzelter 1934: 54 f. 12 13

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sense;20 and Kung often call him father, especially in supplication.21 In a sense, human beings may be regarded as his ‘children’. There are examples, also, from some San groups, among others Kung and Nharo, of the belief that God has a divine wife and divine children.22 These ﬁgure primarily in myths, however, and will not be studied in this work, which deals with the living religious context.23 It is not easy to describe the nature of God among San. Informants and scholars diﬀer a great deal in their accounts of his attributes. Virtually all seem to agree, however, that he is the creator and the highest being.24 In a comprehensive study, based on early material, Schapera concludes that God is ‘the creator, the source of the beneﬁcent rain and of good luck in hunting and food gathering, and the protector of his people from illness and danger’.25 These principal conceptions, which Schapera felt were common to most of the San of his time, have been reported by later scholars too. In particular, the ideas of God as a giver of good things have been stressed by researchers inﬂuenced by Schmidt and his theory of Urmonoteismus.26 The conclusions drawn by Schmidt and his disciples have been supported in a more recent work by Tanaka, who thus says that God represents all that is good; for instance, he provides food, causes rain, makes plants grow and saves people from starvation and drought.27

20

Barnard 1988: 221. Marshall 1962: 227, 246. With the exception of the androgynous Kxyani of Kxoe (Köhler 1978/79: 20 ﬀ.), it seems that God is anthropomorphically depicted as ‘male’ among all groups of San (Thurner 1983: 391). 22 E.g., Schapera 1930: 177; Marshall 1962: 225 f.; Barnard 1988: 221. 23 The reports about God’s wife and children have been questioned by Schmidt (1929: 297) and Gusinde (1963/65: 37; 1965: 41), who regard San religion as ‘monotheistic’ (Schmidt 1933: 684; Gusinde 1965: 40). According to Gusinde, the notions of wife and children are the result of foreign inﬂuence. Cf. Lebzelter 1928: 407. 24 On God as the creator, see Dornan 1925: 149; Schmidt 1933: 686 f.; Wilhelm 1954: 162; Gusinde 1963/65: 38; Heinz 1975: 20; Köhler 1978/79: 20 f.; Tanaka 1980: 110. 25 Shapera 1930: 195. See also Vedder 1912: 414; Schebesta 1923/24: 115; Dornan 1925: 149; Fourie 1928: 104. Cf. Seyﬀert 1913: 204 f. 26 Lebzelter 1928: 407; Lebzelter 1934: 54 ﬀ.; Gusinde 1963/65: 37 f.; Gusinde 1965: 40 f. Schmidt himself (1933: 686 f.) concluded: ‘Dass das Höchste Wesen ein gutes Wesen sei, ist die allgemeine Aussage aller Stämme und aller Quellen. Von ihm kommt, wenigstens in letzter Linie, alles Gute, das die Menschen erfahren, und er sendet nur Gutes.’ 27 Tanaka 1980: 110 f. 21

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In more recent works the good and helpful qualities of God are stressed too, although not as strongly and consistently as in the studies by Schmidt and others. Rather, God’s nature is depicted as more or less ambivalent. In this book, the word ‘ambivalent’ is normally used to refer to the morally mixed nature of deities and spirits, designating them as both constructive and destructive, both good and evil, or, in other words, as spiritual beings in non-dualistic religions. Marshall and Lee indicate that ambivalence may be an important characteristic of God among Kung, particularly as he is portrayed in myths.28 Among Nharo, however, this feature seems to be less pronounced. Guenther says that good is attributed to him,29 whereas Barnard points out that his goodness, or his moral ambiguity, varies with the degree to which the concept of God assumes identity with the other, more evil, elements of the spiritual world.30 Based on the analyses of her impressive amount of material from various periods of time, Thurner has drawn the conclusion that God is ambivalent but that the good aspects are predominant.31 Her conclusion coincides with my own interpretation of the material available to me.32 Transcendental attributes such as ‘omniscience’, ‘omnipotence’ and ‘omnipresence’ appear primarily in late sources,33 which may indicate some changes over time. Even in studies by early scholars of the ‘Vienna school’—Schmidt, Schebesta and Lebzelter—such attributes appear sparsely, if they appear at all. With regard to the Kung, Marshall says that, in contrast to former beliefs, they now (1962) believe that God is all-powerful.34 Scholars of San disagree on the issue whether, or to what extent, the ‘traditional’ concepts of God have been inﬂuenced by Christianity, but that question need not be discussed in detail here.35

28

Marshall 1962: 228–238; Lee 1984: 107. See also, e.g., Fourie 1994: 6. Guenther 1979: 106. 30 Barnard 1988: 224. 31 Thurner (1983: 391) says, regarding the character of God, ‘dass er häuﬁger ausschliesslich gut als gut und böse, das heisst willkürlich und unberechenbar, oder indiﬀerent ist’. 32 Cf. further, e.g., Bleek 1928: 25; Schapera 1930: 185; Köhler 1978/79: 20 ﬀ.; Katz 1982: 30; Guenther 1986: 218 f. 33 E.g., Silberbauer 1972: 319; Thurner 1983: 382, 386, 391 f. 34 Marshall 1962: 234. See also, e.g., Köhler 1978/79: 23 f. 35 Hirschberg (1975: 393), for example, argues that such inﬂuences cannot be excluded, while Thurner (1983: 392) presents the opposite conclusion. 29

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While oﬀerings or sacriﬁces to God are rare or non-existent, prayers are more or less common.36 Oﬀerings have been mentioned by Schebesta, Schmidt and Gusinde,37 but the great majority of scholars either ﬂatly deny that any oﬀerings are made,38 or simply do not say anything about it. As a rule, prayers are said by individuals in a non-formalized way. When praying, they ask or thank God for various things such as success in the hunt and recovery from serious illnesses.39 In relation to the Kung, Marshall reports that they may all express their concerns, anxieties, hopes and thankfulness at any time or place and without any special postures.40 God is not far away or indiﬀerent to humanity. Rather, he has become increasingly involved in the lives of Kung. Among the Nharo, God appears to be somewhat more remote.41 Guenther even speaks of him as an ‘otiose’ being, although he mentions that people occasionally do pray to him.42 Earlier accounts of Nharo seem to indicate that God was less remote or more frequently addressed in prayer.43 However, the evidence is too slender and the variations between diﬀerent Nharo individuals too great to warrant any far-reaching conclusions in this respect. The Lesser Deity and the Spirits of the Dead As mentioned above, Gauwa is one of the names for God among Kung in the Nyae Nyae region. Paradoxically, this is also the name of the lesser deity, who shares all the divine names of God except the earthly one, Gao Na. Among Kung, ‘one shares in some mystical

36 Here it is, again, important to call attention to diﬀerences between various groups and individuals of San. Cf., e.g., Heinz’s account of Xo (1975: 22, 36), who pray frequently, and Köhler’s study of the Kxoe area (Köhler 1978/79: 21), where prayers are very seldom said. 37 Schebesta 1923/24: 115; Schmidt 1933: 688; Gusinde 1963/65: 38 ﬀ.; Gusinde 1965: 40. 38 E.g., Vedder 1912: 414; Heinz 1975: 27; Köhler 1971: 324. 39 For some accounts of prayers among San, see Schebesta 1923/24: 123; Bleek 1928: 25; Lebzelter 1928: 407, 412; Schapera 1930: 183; Schmidt 1933: 687; Lebzelter 1934: 11; Gusinde 1963/65: 38 ﬀ.; Gusinde 1965: 40; Heinz 1975: 22; Köhler 1978/79: 21; Thurner 1983: 392; Heinz 1986: 31. 40 Marshall 1962: 244, 246 f. 41 Barnard 1988: 224. 42 Guenther 1986: 65, 214, 219. 43 Bleek 1928: 25; Schapera 1930: 183.

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way the entity of the person for whom one is named’.44 The word Gauwa is used by Nharo too.45 The Dobe Kung call the lesser deity Gangwa matse (small Gangwa) to distinguish him from the big Gangwa. Barnard holds that among Khoisan peoples this name is almost universally the term used for the lesser deity or for the evil aspect of God.46 It is, furthermore, used to designate the spirits of the dead. Among the Nyae Nyae Kung these are, thus, called gauwasi.47 The Dobe Kung call them gangwasi,48 and among the Nharo they may be referred to as Gauwani.49 Hence the names suggest that the three categories of heavenly beings are closely connected with each other. Some of the statements about God and the lesser deity seem to indicate that they were once one single being.50 Indeed, some San do not think of Gauwa as a separate being.51 The ‘two beings’ are sometimes regarded as two aspects of the same divine being.52 On the other hand, there are studies that depict a dualist or almost dualist system. One example is the aforementioned account by Tanaka, according to which the lesser deity represents everything that is evil or bad and, consequently, is blamed for all kinds of misfortune.53 More than half a century earlier, Dornan referred to him as ‘the evil spirit’ or ‘demon’.54 Several scholars have applied the term Satan or Devil.55 In some cases informants inﬂuenced by or knowledgeable about Christianity have used these terms in talks with the scholars concerned.56

44

Marshall 1962: 225. Guenther 1979: 106. 46 Barnard 1988: 226. 47 Marshall 1962: 241. 48 Lee 1984: 107. 49 Guenther 1979: 110. Nharo use the term kwe gau gau too (ibid.; cf. Guenther 1986: 218). See further, e.g., Schapera 1930: 186 ﬀ., 193. 50 Concerning the Xam, Lewis-Williams (1981: 122) contends that there was previously one ‘capricious’ being only. 51 E.g., Bleek 1928: 26; Barnard 1979: 72; Lee 1984: 107. 52 Marshall 1962: 238; Thurner 1983: 393; Barnard 1988: 226. Cf. the case of the Kxoe, who believe in one divine being, Kxyani, who has a male and a female aspect (Köhler 1978/79: 20 ﬀ.). 53 Tanaka 1980: 110 f. 54 Dornan 1925: 150. Similar statements about this deity as an evil or bad being have been made by, among others, Fourie (1928: 104) and Wilhelm (1954: 163). 55 E.g., Bleek 1928: 26; Schapera 1930: 188; Guenther 1986: 224. Cf. Fourie 1994: 6. 56 Lebzelter 1928: 408, 410; Schapera 1930: 188; Guenther 1986: 224. Cf. Lee 1984: 107. 45

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However, in most cases such a translation seems misleading. Even though there is enough evidence to conclude that, to some San, he was or is conceived of as entirely evil, he has more frequently been thought of as an ambivalent being.57 An interesting hypothesis was presented by Schmidt, who interpreted the lesser deity as the progenitor of humanity.58 As a representative of humanity he cannot be entirely evil. Such a conception of him must, thus, be due to foreign inﬂuence. Like other humans created by God, he is subordinated to the creator, and there is no worship of him. More recent sources support the description of the lesser deity as subordinated to God.59 Among the Nharo, as described by Guenther,60 some regard the former as the son of God, while others see him as God’s servant. Marshall holds that Kung increasingly think of the lesser deity as dependent of God.61 Being subservient to God, he should carry out orders. Yet he preserves considerable independence and instigates his own aﬀairs. Even though the emphasis is on evil-doing, good deeds can be expected of him. The paradox of subservience and independence has been observed among, for instance, Nharo too. Among them, he is sometimes described as a jealous rival of God, a very unpredictable and capricious being.62 Nharo are one of the groups with myths that depict the lesser deity as a trickster or culture-hero. For instance, Nharo may say that he brought ﬁre but also knowledge of death.63 Although he may be associated with the earth, he is more often conceived of as a heavenly being. His heavenly dwelling is separate from that of God. According to Nharo, as well as to Ko, God’s dwelling is in a higher region than that of the lower deity.64 Kung associate the former with the east, whereas the latter is said to live in the western region, where the sun sets.65 As was brieﬂy mentioned

57 See further Lebzelter 1928: 407; Schmidt 1933: 689; Marshall 1962: 239; Heinz 1975: 22; Guenther 1979: 108; Thurner 1983: 394; Guenther 1986: 219, 249. 58 Schmidt 1933: 689 f.; Vedder 1937: 431. 59 Heinz 1975: 23; Thurner 1983: 393. 60 Guenther 1979: 106. 61 Marshall 1962: 239. 62 Guenther 1986: 222 f., 248. 63 Guenther 1979: 108 f.; Thurner 1983: 395. Cf. Gusinde 1965: 41. See also Smith et al. 2000: 80. 64 Guenther 1979: 107; Heinz 1975: 22. Cf. Bleek 1928: 26. 65 Marshall 1962: 233, 240.

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above, there are stories about a wife and children of God. With his interpretation of the lower deity as the progenitor of humanity in view, Schmidt ﬁnds it puzzling that there is no ﬁrst ancestress at his side.66 He felt that this could be due to insuﬃcient knowledge of this being at that time. In fact, more recent works show that there are stories, primarily of a mythic character and signiﬁcance, about a wife and children of the lower deity.67 Modern sources, furthermore, support Schmidt’s note that there is usually no worship of the lesser deity. The paucity of examples concerning prayers to this being is in marked contrast to the numerous examples of such worship of God. Prayers to the lesser deity seem to occur primarily among groups, such as some Kung of southern Angola and northern Namibia, where he is regarded as a master of animals. In most cases, however, it is God who has features of a master of animals, although this concept seems to be much less important among San than among hunting-gathering peoples of northern Eurasia.68 In order to shed further light on the human characteristics of the lesser deity, it is essential to consider his relationship to the spirits of the dead. Both his name and certain attributes appear to suggest that he is closely allied to these spirits. When a death has occurred, the dead person has usually been buried in a contracted position, like a foetus or a person asleep, without any elaborate ceremonies and rites of mourning.69 Concerning Kung, for instance, Marshall says that burial has no eﬀect upon the status in the afterlife.70 Thus, whether dead Kung are buried properly bound in deep round graves, or scratched into shallow trenches, or not buried at all and eaten by beasts, makes no diﬀerence in that respect. Nor does the deceased person’s manner of living have any bearing on his or her whereabouts in the afterlife. Only a very few sources report that ‘good’ people go to God, whereas ‘bad’ people go to the lesser deity.71 In the case of the farm Nharo studied by Guenther, ideas about a good and a bad place for the dead, and the importance of a person’s

66

Schmidt 1933: 690. Marshall 1962: 226 f.; Heinz 1975: 22; Katz 1982: 29; Guenther 1986: 221. 68 Thurner 1983: 386 f. 69 For some information about funerals, see Passarge 1907: 110 ﬀ.; Vedder 1912: 413; Bleek 1928: 35; Schapera 1930: 160–166; Woodburn 1982: 199 f.; Guenther 1986: 281 ﬀ.; Heinz 1986. 70 Marshall 1962: 243. 71 E.g., Heinz: 24. Cf. Fourie 1928: 104. 67

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deeds while living, a Christian inﬂuence is clearly discernible.72 Such inﬂuence is, however, unlikely in the case of the Ko San. The Ko studied by Heinz had no idea or concept of Christian beliefs.73 In comparison to hunting-gathering Nharo, farm Nharo have slightly more elaborate mortuary practices too.74 Guenther has the impression that the belief that there is no existence whatsoever when you die, a belief still held by some Nharo, is ‘more truly Nharo’.75 Other sources on Nharo, however, seem to contradict this impression.76 It should be noted, also, that the great majority of reports on San conceptions of the afterlife, including the early ones, give evidence of belief in a continued existence.77 For instance, ‘the Nyae Nyae Kung believe strongly and vividly in the existence of spirits of the dead, the gauwasi, who live immortal lives in the sky with Gao na’. Spirits are like air and cannot normally be seen by living humans. God gives the spirits of the dead everlasting life.78 Although they grow older, he rejuvenates them before they are very old.79 In some early sources it was erroneously concluded that San worship heavenly bodies, particularly the moon.80 Certainly, the moon is important in San mythology and symbolism. For example, a very widespread myth about the origin of death says that the moon wanted human beings to die and return again, as he does himself. The hare was instructed to deliver this message but distorted it, telling human beings that they would die and not return again, and ever since death has existed on earth.81 As pointed out by Barnard, however, there is no evidence that San did, or do, worship the moon.82

72

Guenther 1979: 110; Thurner 1983: 327. Heinz 1975: 33. 74 Guenther 1986: 282. Cf. further Schapera 1930: 168. 75 Guenther 1986: 246 f. 76 E.g., Bleek 1928: 26; Barnard 1979: 71. 77 Seyﬀert 1913: 201; Bleek 1927: 54; Schapera 1930: 171; Vedder 1937: 431; Wilhelm 1954: 162; Gusinde 1965: 40; Heinz 1975: 23; Hirschberg 1975: 394; Köhler 1978/79: 24. 78 Marshall 1962: 241. Cf. Guenther’s account (1986: 241 ﬀ.) of Nharo conceptions of spirits or souls. This issue will be further studied below. 79 Marshall 1962: 241 ﬀ. Cf. Lebzelter 1934: 6 f., 11, 13 f. The quality of perpetual life is one of the reasons why God is associated with the moon, which is said to have the capacity of rejuvenation or death and rebirth too. 80 E.g., Bleek 1927: 305; Schapera 1930: 172 ﬀ. 81 Schapera 1930: 160; Schmidt 1933: 693; Guenther 1986: 245 f. 82 Barnard 1988: 220. 73

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In the case of the Nyae Nyae Kung, the spirits of the dead are taken, by spirits of humans who have died earlier, ﬁrst to the western part of heaven, where the lesser deity lives, before being carried further to the east, to the place where God lives. Apparently, most sources indicate that the spirits of the dead have their dwelling near or with God.83 Yet they are by no means bound to a particular location but move around frequently, on earth as in heaven.84 Although they are usually invisible, they may occasionally be seen, particularly by healers.85 Like God, the spirits of the dead are often depicted as anthropomorphic beings.86 They may, thus, be envisaged in much the same way as living humans.87 Among the Kung and Nharo, for example, the spirits of the dead eat and live together as spouses.88 The character of the spirits of the dead is ambivalent or ambiguous. As in the case of the lesser deity, however, the negative or evil traits are the predominant ones, and they are said to be most active at night.89 Hence it is not surprising that reports about a certain amount of fear of the spirits recur frequently in the sources.90 Although they may act independently, they appear more often to be regarded as servants of God and the lesser deity.91 The fact that they are messengers or minor characters may mitigate the fear felt by human beings, and people speak less reluctantly and more frequently about the spirits than about God and the lesser deity.92 Among the Nharo, in particular, the conceptions of spirits are more diverse than my brief account can possibly demonstrate. Barnard writes about a special

83

E.g., Lebzelter 1928: 407; Vedder 1937: 431; Köhler 1978/79: 24. Schapera 1930: 193; Marshall 1962: 242; Heinz 1975: 23. Cf. the studies of Barnard (1979: 71 f.) and Guenther (1986: 245) on Nharo. According to Marshall (1962: 243), those Kung who have committed suicide live with the lesser deity in the west. 85 E.g., Bleek 1927: 54; Marshall 1962: 242; Barnard 1979: 71. 86 The mythic form of the lesser deity seems more often to be theriomorphic (Thurner 1983: 391). 87 Lebzelter 1928: 109; Vedder 1937: 431. 88 Marshall 1962: 243; Barnard 1979: 71. Unlike Nharo spirits of the dead, as reported by Barnard, Kung spirits of the dead do not beget children, according to Marshall. They are, thus, believed to remain children in the world of spirits. Cf. further Heinz 1975: 23. 89 Bleek 1928: 26; Schapera 1930: 193; Marshall 1962: 244; Barnard 1979: 71; Lee 1984: 107; Barnard 1988: 226. 90 See, e.g., Vedder 1912: 413; Seyﬀert 1913: 201; Bleek 1928: 26; Wilhelm 1954: 161; Heinz 1975: 231; Barnard 1979: 72. 91 Marshall 1962: 241; Köhler 1971: 321; Köhler 1978/79: 24. 92 Marshall 1962: 242, 244; Heinz 1975: 23. 84

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category called Ka-je-m Go-dzi (Old Fathers), who were the original Nharo to whom God gave their land and culture, and who are not feared but may be regarded as ‘ancestors’ in the good sense of the word.93 This may be compared to Guenther’s account of the kwe gau gau, whom some of his Nharo informants regarded as ‘ghosts of recently deceased people’, staying around the graves of their dead bodies for a while, before continuing their journey to God, while others referred to them simply as ‘Gauwa’s things’.94 These spirits or ghosts are usually quite harmless.95 As in the case of the lesser deity, there is normally no organized cult or veneration of the spirits of the dead. Accordingly, the term ‘ancestors’ is avoided here. Older as well as more recent studies show clearly that prayers or oﬀerings to the deceased are exceptional.96 Among others, Schapera concluded that the San did not have any organized ‘family or tribal ancestor worship’ or any form of religious practice in which the spirits of the dead were regularly invoked or propitiated.97 Similarly, Marshall and Barnard have concluded, concerning Kung and Nharo respectively, that the concept of having special relations with their own ancestors are lacking.98 Marshall adds that the spirits of the dead, who have their own supplies of food and implements, do not want anything from living humans.99 Hence there is no point in oﬀering them anything. The Heavenly Beings as Agents of Disease Heavenly beings ﬁgure prominently in the important trance dance, which has been described and discussed in many diﬀerent sources from various periods of time. Even rock paintings indicate that this dance, which has also been labelled, for example, ‘medicine dance’ or ‘therapeutic dance’, was an essential element in San religion many thousands of years ago.100 There are certain diﬀerences between 93

Barnard 1979: 72. Guenther 1986: 218 f. 95 Cf. further Köhler 1978/79: 25. 96 See, e.g., Stow 1910: 133; Seyﬀert 1913: 211; Dornan 1925: 148; Köhler 1971: 324 f.; Heinz 1975: 24. Cf. Schmidt 1933: 691; Holm 1965: 137; Heinz 1986: 25; Fourie 1994: 7. No doubt, Passarge (1907: 107) was badly informed on this issue. 97 Schapera 1930: 171, 395. 98 Marshall 1962: 241; Barnard 1979: 72. 99 Marshall 1962: 243. 100 Vinnicombe 1976: 310 ﬀ.; Lewis-Williams 1981: chapter 7. 94

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various groups of San in terms of performance and contents of the trance dance. Yet the similarities are more conspicuous, and there seem to have been few changes over time. As noted by LewisWilliams, there is even a marked similarity between southern San dances, evidenced in rock paintings, and current dances performed by Kung and other San groups.101 As a background to the presentation of the heavenly beings as agents of disease, I summarize brieﬂy, and with special reference to Kung and Nharo, the major features of the trance dance.102 A trance dance usually starts at dusk and frequently goes on until dawn the following day. The central purposes are prevention and healing of serious aﬄictions, but there may be important elements of recreation, entertainment and enjoyment too.103 Moreover, such a dance is an event when healers gather and transmit to other participants important information about how things are in the spiritual world, and how people in this world would do best to relate to them. Dances are not necessarily restricted to members of one particular band, nor is participation based on kinship ties. The number of participants and spectators, sometimes including Bantu people or other ‘outsiders’, may range from a few dozen, or even less, to a few hundred.104 The trance dance takes place around a ﬁre, either inside or outside the encampment. It can be planned but may also begin spontaneously, usually by women who start singing and clapping. Most women and girls sit at the ﬁre, very close together, while the men who join in, and occasionally a few women, dance in either direction around them. After some time of intensiﬁed dancing the trance comes to some of the dancers, and then they start treating the other participants.105 101

Ibid., 76. It should be mentioned that, in addition to the healing in this communal dance, serious diseases may also be treated in dances or rituals for individuals, although these are less signiﬁcant and less frequent (e.g., Bleek 1928: 29; Heinz 1975: 28; Barnard 1979: 72 f.). 103 E.g., Marshall 1962: 248; Lee 1967: 33; Guenther 1986: 253. See also Gall 2001: 240. 104 Katz (1982: 38) reports about the Kung that small dances, with people from one camp only, involved about 15–20 persons, whereas the large ones, which were not restricted to people from one camp, could attract up to 200. Among farm Nharo, according to Guenther (1975: 162), up to 300 spectators may watch a trance dance. See also, e.g., Marshall 1969: 353 ﬀ. 105 For more detailed accounts of the trance dance, see especially Lee 1967; Lee 1968; Marshall 1969; Guenther 1975; Guenther 1975/76; Barnard 1979; Katz 1982; Guenther 1986: 253–263; Guenther 1999: chapter 8. Among older sources, I have 102

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A key concept in connection with the trance dance is the concept of num (among Kung) or tsso (among Nharo).106 Num (or tsso) has been described as a ‘spiritual energy’107 or ‘potent therapeutic substance’,108 which normally resides in the stomach. Kung hold that it was created by God, who gave it his own power.109 He does not wield or command it, but he can stop it from working any time he wishes. Not only human beings have num; it exists in many other things too. Num is always strong, and sometimes so strong that it is dangerous. If ordinary mortals come too close to God, for instance, his num would automatically kill them. ‘It seemed to me that num had several attributes similar to those of electricity. Like electricity, num is powerful and invisible, capable of beneﬁcent eﬀects, but highly dangerous if too strong.’110 In the trance dance, num is activated, and when it is ‘boiling’, it rises up the spine to the head.111 This ‘boiling energy’ (kia), to use the title of the book by Katz,112 is a strong healing power, which exudes from the body in the form of sweat.113 The state of trance is induced by the repetitive dancing, the singing and the ﬁre.114 Hence num resides not only in the dancers or healers but also in the songs and in the dance ﬁre. The songs, which are named after ‘strong’ things such as certain animals, usually have sounds rather than ordinary words and complex melodies.115 Kung, among others, believe that num songs are created by God and revealed in dreams and visions.116 Like the songs, the dance ﬁre augments

found Lebzelter (1934: 48 ﬀ.), Mogg (n.d.: 6 f.) and Gusinde (MS) particularly interesting. Mogg’s study was probably published in the mid-1930s. Detailed descriptions of the trance dance are found in Gusinde’s ﬁeld notes from, e.g., 8 October 1950. See also Fourie 1994: 8; Smith et al. 2000: 78 ﬀ. 106 Cf., e.g., the terms gaoxa (Marshall 1962: 248) and tco (Köhler 1971: 318 f.). 107 Katz 1982: 34. 108 Guenther 1975: 162. 109 E.g., Marshall 1962: 248; Katz 1982: 92. 110 Marshall 1969: 350 f. 111 Katz 1982: 41. See also Lee 1984: 109. 112 Katz 1982. 113 See further, e.g., Barnard 1979: 75; Lee 1968: 44; Lee 1984: 109; Shostak 1981: chapter 13; Katz 1982: 42, passim; Guenther 1986: 243 f.; Smith et al. 2000: 78. 114 Lee 1968: 36; Katz 1982: 94. Psychologically, physical exertion and food deprivation may be important factors for understanding the inducement of trance (Guenther 1975/76: 49; Katz 1982: 94). 115 Barnard 1979: 74; Lee 1984: 111; Lewis-Williams 1981: 83. 116 Marshall 1969: 366 f.; Katz 1982: 123.

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the concentration of num at a trance dance.117 Unlike many shamans in South America, for instance, Kung and Nharo healers normally do not make use of intoxicants.118 Katz reports that, in rare cases, a drug may be given to some Kung with diﬃculties in experiencing trance.119 Likewise, there are few, if any, special paraphernalia, although the use of rattles, wound around the legs of the dancers, and sticks have been reported.120 In the state of trance, healers may perform feats like touching the ﬁre, eating burning coals, seeing at a great distance and obtaining special information. They claim that if their own num is hot enough, they will not be burnt by the ﬁre.121 At least in the past, some powerful healers were believed to be able to transform themselves into animals, lions for example.122 When healers are in deep trance, a comatose or sometimes unconscious state, and said to be ‘half dead’ or ‘dead’, their souls are believed to leave their bodies to travel to the world of spiritual beings. This ‘shamanistic’ feature of out-ofbody travel is an important element in San religion.123 One important reason for a healer’s travel in extra-corporeal form is the diagnosis of ‘soul loss’, which is another striking similarity between San religion and religions among hunting-gathering peoples in North America and northern Eurasia. Taking the souls or spirits of living humans away is one of the various means used by the spiritual beings to bring diseases and other types of misfortune; and the trance dance is the occasion when they are most likely to bring aﬄictions. Since it normally occurs at night, when the spiritual beings are very alert, they are attracted by the event.124 In order to grasp the idea of soul loss, an examination of San conceptions of ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’ is needed. Both of these terms have been used in the literature on San to designate a part of human beings that is normally considered to be invisible and immortal. Here the slightly diﬀerent ideas of Kung and Nharo will be compared. 117

Marshall 1969: 357; Lee 1968: 44. Marshall 1969: 372; Guenther 1986: 269 f. 119 Katz 1976: 293. 120 E.g., Marshall 1969: 358. Cf. Lewis-Williams 1981: 78. 121 Heinz 1975: 29; Barnard 1979: 75; Katz 1982: 100. 122 Dornan 1925: 152; Holm 1965: 87 f.; Lee 1967: 34 f. 123 For some more details, see Lebzelter 1934: 54; Marshall 1962: 250; Holm 1965: 86; Lewis-Williams 1981: 77; Shostak 1981: 292 f.; Katz 1982: 43, 100; Guenther 1986: 271; Fourie 1994: 8; Smith et al. 2000: 80. 124 Marshall 1962: 244; Marshall 1969: 350; Katz 1982: 43, 112 f. 118

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When a Kung person dies, spirits of the dead come to take that person’s ‘spirit’ ( gauwa)—this is the term used by, among others, Marshall—by pulling it through the head of the corpse. Likewise, it is through their heads that the spirits of the healers in trance leave their bodies temporarily to encounter the spiritual being, who lurks in the shadows around the dance ﬁre, and it is through the heads that the spirits return. The spirit that is taken from the corpse when a person dies is distinct from ‘life’ (toa), which is put inside the body of a person, or animal, and held there by God. It exists in the vital organs of the body, including the head, but not in the arms and legs. Whereas wounds in the former parts can be lethal, somebody may even lose a limb yet survive. Eventually ‘life’ dies in the body and stays there, but the spirit does not die.125 This clear distinction between ‘spirit’ and ‘life’ does not seem to exist among the Nharo studied by Guenther.126 According to his report, the spirit or ‘soul’ (i )—Guenther uses the latter term—is an integral part of the body and imparts the body with life, thought and feeling. The soul derives originally from God and becomes ‘the quintessential substance of the body’. Diﬀused throughout the body by the blood, the ‘soul substance’ is found in its strongest concentration in the vital organs of the body. In particular, it is associated with the heart and the brain. It is alert and active when the body is awake as well as asleep, and it can temporarily leave the body. For those Nharo who believe in an afterlife, the soul (i ) is the part of the body that survives death and returns to God.127 Guenther reports that tssa Neri (‘steal from Neri’) is a common cause of disease in the Nharo conceptual system. When God is inattentive, the lesser deity may take a soul of a living human away from God’s sphere of inﬂuence into his own, and that person will then become sick. Tssa Neri is the explanation for cases of relapse, too; it is typical of the lesser deity to thwart God in this fashion, snatching the soul of the sick person who had just then, by the good grace of God, seemed to be recovering. One particular aﬄiction caused by the lesser deity’s contest with God is madness. In deﬁance of the latter, the former will place a second soul into a person, which is

125 126 127

Marshall 1962: 242. See also Fourie 1994: 7. Guenther 1986: 242 f. Ibid., 245.

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at odds with the other soul, derived from God at the time of birth. The madness is a result of the struggle between the two souls.128 When the healers encounter the spiritual beings in the trance dance, they often lack the respectful attitudes they normally have. Kung, among others, do not argue with God and the lesser deity in daily life and may fear to utter their ordinary names, using expressions such as ‘the one in the east’ or ‘the one in the west’ instead. The attitudes observed in trance dances can be more open and straightforward. Although more cautious means like cajoling or pleading with the spiritual beings occur in trance dances as well, the healers often become aggressive and swear at them. Sometimes burning sticks are hurled at them and indecent invectives are used.129 When a healer’s soul leaves his or her body to try to rescue the lost soul of a seriously sick person, the healer enters into a very close contact with the spiritual world, and the struggle becomes intense. According to Katz, ‘this struggle is at the heart of the healer’s art and power’.130 Besides soul loss, another major reason for serious illnesses is intrusion. In that case some object, originating from a spiritual being, is believed to have entered the body of a person. Apparently, the intruding object is most often thought of as a miniature arrow.131 From the Kung area, for instance, Marshall and Shostak, among others, report invisible arrows shot by the spirits of the dead.132 Guenther, on the other hand, says that while some Nharo conceive of the arrows, which in this case are shot by the lesser deity, as invisible and immaterial, others say that they are concrete objects.133 Whether invisible or not, such arrows or other things that have made people seriously ill must be removed by the healers, who can achieve that by, for instance, sucking or drawing them out.134 128

Ibid., 223 f. E.g., Marshall 1962: 227 f.; Marshall 1969: 248; Guenther 1986: 271. 130 Katz 1982: 43. On their returns from out-of-body travels, the healers may describe the heavenly realm, sometimes in great detail, and recount their ﬁght for the sick one’s soul. Cf. Guenther (1986: 261) who says that Nharo healers do not share their experiences after their travels in trance. 131 Cf., e.g., the case of the Kxoe area, where the spiritual beings use spears (Köhler 1962: 319). 132 Marshall 1962: 244; Shostak 1981: 291. 133 Guenther 1986: 272. 134 E.g., Marshall 1969: 369; Katz 1982: 105. In the late 1930s, Vedder (1937: 429) reported that some healers could suck out, for example, some thorn or piece of bone, take it out of the mouth, show it to people around and then throw it into 129

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Important as these methods may be, diseases and deaths caused by spiritual beings can be brought about in other ways too. Among Kung, for example, they can inﬂuence wild animals to attack people, and they can be the cause of a person’s falling from a tree. Lightning can be used by the spirits of the dead to kill people when God and the lesser deity so command.135 Like lightning, a whirlwind is a ‘death thing’ in Kung belief. A whirlwind is called gauwa a, which means ‘Gauwa smell’. The spirits of the dead come in whirlwinds too, but neither they nor the lesser deity can be seen or heard in these winds. People who encounter such winds must try to get away, lest they will sicken or die.136 This association of whirlwinds with the lesser deity is also found among Nharo.137 Sometimes ‘sickness’ seems to be a very abstract notion. A person may or may not be aware of having sickness.138 Yet even those who are unaware of being sick are treated by the healers in the trance dance. A healer in trance may ‘absorb’ a person’s aﬄiction into his or her own body and let it run its full course there. Although this can be painful for the healer, his or her ‘hot’ state of trance makes it possible to endure and survive.139 With regard to Kung, Katz has drawn the following conclusion: Sickness is more an existential condition or level of being than a particular illness or symptom. Everybody has some sickness, and so everybody who is at a dance is given healing. In most persons, this sickness remains incipient, neither serious nor manifested in symptoms. In some persons, the sickness is actualized into what Westerners would call an illness. Persons who are ill get especially intensive and extensive healing. Num is for prevention as well as treatment.140

the ﬁre. One of the Kung healers interviewed by Katz (1982: 82) said that the ‘little things’ he removed from a man with a sick stomach were like twigs. 135 Marshall 1962: 244. Cf. Vedder 1912: 413. 136 Marshall 1962: 239. 137 Guenther (1986: 220) translates a ‘breath’. According to Bleek (1928: 26), the wind is called by the name of the lesser deity ‘when it is strong and hurls’. Cf. Schapera 1930: 194; Barnard 1988: 226. In her essay on San in Angola, Bleek (1927: 54) hypothesized that God and the lesser deity ‘verkörperte Naturkräfte sind, ersterer wohl der Wald oder das Wachsen des Waldes, letzterer Wind und Regen’. 138 In the latter case the term ‘disease’ would perhaps be somewhat inappropriate, since it seems to imply an awareness of not being at ease (dis-ease). 139 Marshall 1962: 244; Marshall 1969: 349, 370 f.; Guenther 1975/76: 49. 140 Katz 1982: 102.

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There are no diﬀerent words to distinguish ‘potential sickness’ from sickness that is speciﬁc or manifested in symptoms. In both cases the term xai is used. Hence the distinctions are created by the context of usage.141 As a rule, it does not seem possible to diﬀerentiate clearly between the spiritual beings as agents of disease and death, although some general tendencies may be discerned. Among the Kung, it seems that the spirits of the dead are the primary direct causes of serious aﬄictions. Yet it must be remembered that they are often commanded by the more powerful beings. God is seldom a direct cause of disease, but he may send diseases and death through the lesser deity and the spirits.142 Marshall even states that his being the cause of sickness and death was a reason for his giving himself many names.143 Being all-powerful, he is ultimately responsible for death. According to Marshall, the lesser deity was previously, when the idea of God’s omnipotence was less signiﬁcant, thought of as the deathgiver.144 He is now conceived of more as a messenger, although, like the spirits of the dead, he can act independently as well. If they are in a benevolent mood, they may be placated by the healers in the trance dance. That is unusual, however, and the healers must then try to drive them away instead. Sometimes they succeed in doing so, but sometimes they lose the battles with these spiritual beings. God is confronted by the most powerful healers only, whose souls travel to his home, at the greatest risk to their very lives.145 According to Guenther, the spiritual agent most responsible for disease among Nharo is the lesser deity.146 Yet some diseases may stem from God too. For instance, he can send deformed children to a mother. God is associated with death too. When death is sent by God, however, it is a ‘good death’, that is, one that takes a person’s life quietly, without pain, and at an advanced age. A death caused by the lesser deity is, instead, a ‘bad death’, that is, a death of pain, spasms, kicking and crying. On the whole, he is here more of an envious opponent of God than a messenger. Paradoxically, however, the lesser

141 142 143 144 145 146

Ibid., 53. Lee 1967: 134; Katz 1982: 102; Woodburn 1982: 200. Marshall 1962: 223. Ibid., 234. Ibid., 250 f.; Marshall 1969: 350; Katz 1982: 43, 105. Guenther 1975: 162; Guenther 1986: 271.

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deity also heals illnesses, and holds the medicinal plants of the veld. Most Nharo healers, therefore, attribute their powers of trance healing to this deity.147 Among the Ko, for instance, the lesser deity seems to be the most common agent of disease too. God, on the other hand, is more a source of healing than of illness and death. If a person who has been very sick recovers, it is an indication that there has been a regular conﬂict between God and the lesser deity and that God has prevailed. Yet, as among Nharo described by Guenther, the lesser deity of the Ko is not an entirely bad being. Thus he is believed to give medicines to healers and to intercede, occasionally, with God for a person’s life.148 With regard to the Kxoe, Köhler says that diseases and deaths are associated primarily with the female aspect (weibliche Gott) of the androgynous God, Kxyani. The ‘male God’ (männliche Gott) usually does not send illnesses. As messengers of the ‘female God’, the Herrin der Krankheit, the spirits of the dead can cause deaths, but when they act independently they occasion illnesses only.149 Why, then, do the heavenly beings cause diseases and deaths? The basic San answer to this question appears to be some reference to their ambivalent and unpredictable nature, which was described above. In works by scholars of the Vienna School, the moral aspect of the San thoughts about the reasons for diseases and deaths has clearly been exaggerated.150 Lee mentions that one of his informants once argued that the major agents of disease among the Kung, that is the spirits of the dead, did not bother those persons who behaved themselves, but he later reversed himself.151 Apparently, the idea of aﬄictions as punishment for misbehaviour was not a predominant one among those Kung studied by Lee. From the Nyae Nyae Kung area, Marshall reports that the concept of ‘sin’ as an oﬀence against spiritual beings is vague. One person’s wrongdoing against another

147 Guenther 1986: 222 ﬀ., 253. Among the Central Nharo studied by Barnard (1979: 71 f., 75), the signiﬁcance of the spirits of the dead as agents of illness and death is more strongly emphasized. A few of their healers claim to derive their healing power from God or the lesser deity. More often, however, these healers associate this power with the spirits of the dead. 148 Heinz 1975: 22 f., 34, 36. 149 Köhler 1971: 321; Köhler 1978: 37; Köhler 1978/79: 21, 34. 150 See especially Gusinde (1963/65: 38), who states that God punishes evil persons by serious diseases and early deaths. Cf. Lebzelter 1934: 11. 151 Lee 1984: 107 f.

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is corrected or avenged within their social context and not by God, who punishes people for his own reasons, which can be quite obscure. Burning bees, for instance, is something that displeases him intensively. Since he is very fond of bees and honey, he may send sickness and death upon people who burn. The somewhat unpredictable nature of God is exempliﬁed by the story about the hunter who died after eating the meat of a gemsbok he had killed, because God had changed himself into that particular gemsbok. The informant who told Marshall this story said that God might regret having done such a thing—killing a man who was just hunting to feed his children— and, to make amends, he might particularly favour that man’s son.152 Shostak provides a Kung example of how the spirits of the dead, as it were, may punish the punished. A spirit can exercise his or her power against the living if, for example, a certain woman is not being treated well by her husband and other people. In such a case the spirit may conclude that no one cares whether she remains alive and, for that reason, ‘take her to the sky’.153 Moreover, the spirits of the dead may bring sickness simply because they are longing for the living. The process of death can, thus, be seen as a struggle between two loving sets of relatives, one living and the other dead, each wanting the individual for themselves.154 Regarding Nharo, Guenther says that the reason why God sometimes sends deformed children to women is to determine if they will take care of them; and he is believed to be pleased if they decide to keep such children.155 One reason why the lesser deity, among Nharo, may become oﬀended, is the presence of such non-San things as shiny metallic objects, for example, knives and ﬂashlights, and tobacco. Therefore, such things are concealed at a trance dance.156 Moreover, the ‘fairly physiological’ Nharo notion of ‘soul’ (i ) is a part of the explanation why some people become sick and die more easily than others. For instance, the soul is ‘smaller’ in children than in adults, and it is ‘smaller’ in women than in men.157 Like Kung and other San women, Nharo women can become healers, but most

152 153 154 155 156 157

Marshall 1962: 245. Shostak 1981: 291. Lee 1984: 109. Guenther 1986: 242. This applies to twins, also. Cf. Marshall 1962: 245. Guenther 1975/76: 49. Guenther 1986: 242. See also, e.g., Drennan 1937: 248; Tanaka 1980: 115.

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healers, and particularly the most renowned and powerful ones, are men.158 Among Kung, for instance, the search for the power called num is of greater importance to men than to women;159 and in the state of trance or ‘half-death’ the men, temporarily and paradoxically, become particularly exposed and vulnerable.160 Even though a variety of San explanations to the problem why the heavenly beings cause diseases and deaths have been rendered in the sources, there is clearly no systematic or coherent ‘theological answer’ to that question. Like other aspects of San religion, this issue is characterized by ﬂexibility and ﬂuidity. Besides, Lee’s conclusion that the Kung do not spend much time in pondering such religious or philosophical problems seems to be applicable to other groups of San as well.161 In the above account of the spiritual beings as agents of disease and death only a few references have been made to the older material. One reason for that is simply that the older sources do not contain much information about the religious or cultural aspects of San medicine.162 Another reason is that as far as they do provide such information, it does not, as a rule, diﬀer signiﬁcantly from the accounts presented in the more recent sources.163 Like the performance of the trance dance, the religious content of this dance has, by and large, been invariable throughout the period of time considered here. To the extent that more signiﬁcant changes have occurred, these have largely resulted from increased inﬂuences from non-San ideas and practices.164

158

Shostak 1981: 298; Guenther 1986: 264. Katz 1982: 44. 160 Marshall 1962: 250 f.; Katz 1982: 43, 105. 161 Lee 1984: 109. 162 E.g., Nolte 1986; Lübbert 1901. 163 Cf. further, e.g., Dornan 1925: 150; Schapera 1930: 188, 194; Schmidt 1933: 689; Lebzelter 1934: 44, 46; Wilhelm 1954: 73. 164 The results of these inﬂuences will be discussed in chapter 9. 159

CHAPTER THREE

GOD IN MAASAI THOUGHT An Geister glauben die Maasai nicht.1 God, who created the world and human beings, who gives and maintains life, is also the ultimate cause of disease and death.2

Introduction Many of the scholars who have studied the Maasai religion have emphasized its ‘uniqueness’ in the African context. In his classic work from 1910, Merker even held that the diﬀerence between the Maasai and neighbouring peoples is greater in the religious ﬁeld than in any other ﬁeld.3 Fully four decades later, Reusch depicted the Maasai as ‘ausgesprochene Monotheisten’ (typical monotheists),4 and more recently, H.-E. Hauge has repeatedly claimed that their religion is ‘one of the purest monotheistic religions of the world’.5 Not only the theocentric and monotheistic features of pastoral Maasai religion but also, for instance, the lack of such elements as sacred buildings, religious images, priesthood, spirits of ancestors and, as a rule, even of belief in life beyond have been apprehended as evidence of the unique character of this religion.6 Certainly, it seems that some of these characteristics, such as the monotheism and the common disbelief in the hereafter, are particularly pronounced among pastoral Maasai. By and large, however, their religion is similar to the form of religion that is found among other, especially non-Muslim,

1

Fuchs 1910: 114. Århem 1989: 80. 3 ‘Nirgends zeigt sich bei einem Vergleich der Ethnographie der Masai mit derjenigen der ihnen benachbarten, um sie herum wohnenden Völker eine so tiefe Kluft, wie auf dem Feld der religiösen Anschaung.’ 4 Reusch 1946: n.p. 5 Hauge 1979: 42, 59. See also, e.g., Merker 1904: 196. Cf. Schmidt 1940: 424 f.; Olsson 1982b: 9; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 170. 6 E.g., Olsson 1982b: 1; Olsson 1989: 238. 2

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pastoral peoples in Africa.7 Apparently, it is only when it is compared to religions of non-pastoralist, particularly agricultural, peoples that the religion of the pastoral Maasai stands out as exceptional. As in the case of San religion, it is, furthermore, important to take into account the individual and ﬂexible traits of Maasai religion. While some Maasai believe staunchly in God, others are not religious believers at all, and there is a wide range of diﬀering kinds of religiosity between such extremes. More than a century ago, Fischer stated in a travel report that the religious practices of the Maasai were in no way prominent;8 and about a hundred years later BergSchlosser concluded that there is a low emphasis on religion in Maasai culture. Among many Maasai, he said, ‘a kind of skeptical “agnosticism” seems to prevail’.9 Jacobs reports that even among ‘traditional elders’ he found many agnostics. Some even questioned the existence and power of God altogether.10 Further, there is a great deal of variation, for example, in the telling of myths and other stories.11 As stressed by Voshaar, ‘THE story and THE version do not exist’.12 Stories and beliefs are not codiﬁed or expressed in systematic treatises.13 There are no controlling theological authorities or priests who have formulated such treatises. An outsider’s creation of a ‘systematic theology’ would, thus, distort the reality of Maasai believers. In addition to the problem of individual variations, the possibility of some basic diﬀerences between the various sections (ilosho) and smaller parts of them should be kept in mind. As remarked by Spencer, the tendency of many scholars to refer to ‘the Maasai’, rather than to some speciﬁc localities, could account for many of 7 For some comparative notes, see Hauge 1979: 160 f.; Kronenberg 1979: 160 f.; Westerlund 1986b: 13 f. 8 Fischer 1884: 72. 9 Berg-Schlosser 1984: 170 f. 10 Jacobs 1965: 323. Cf. Marari (1980: 13 f.) who says that elders sometimes correct, for instance, warriors who occasionally dispute the existence of God. Cf. also the article by Johnston (1915: 483) who probably exaggerates the importance of western inﬂuence. In a study of the Turkana, another people with a culture and religion similar to that of the Maasai, Gulliver (1951: 229 ﬀ., 251) concluded that most Turkana did not resort a great deal to the religious side of life but had, rather, an apathetic attitude to religion. He emphasized, also, that the degree of religious commitment varied clearly from one individual to the other. 11 E.g., Voshaar 1979: 44 f., 118 ﬀ.; Marari 1980: 28. 12 Voshaar 1979: 107. 13 Ibid., 118.

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the contradictions between diﬀerent sources. While realizing that the comparative perspective of this study, as well as the nature of most of the sources, does not render any greater precision possible, I will at least attempt to avoid speaking in overgeneralized terms about ‘the religion of the pastoral Maasai’. Maasai religion diﬀers from San religion in that, among other things, it is richer in ceremonies and rituals. Above all, there are elaborate ceremonies connected with initiations within the age-group system, such as the circumcision ceremony, emurata.14 The major agegroup ceremonies involve features like ritual head-shaving, continual blessings, slaughter of animals, paintings of the face or body, singing, dancing and feasting.15 Another diﬀerence between Maasai religion and San religion is that, in the former, leadership functions are more strongly dominated by men. As will be exempliﬁed later, elders are the most prominent authorities in religious aﬀairs. It seems that, as a rule, women are ‘more religious’ than men in that they pray, or sing songs of prayer, and make oﬀerings more frequently.16 However, ritual leadership functions and the right to make important religious, as well as political, decisions are vested in the elders.17 God the Creator The most important name, or the proper name of God, among the Maasai is enkAi. The word enkai can be translated ‘heaven’, or ‘sky’, and ‘rain’ too.18 As suggested by the name, God is associated particularly with the heavenly realm, yet he is not identiﬁed with it. He may also

14 For some information about the signiﬁcance of circumcision, see Widenmann 1895: 302 f.; Merker 1904: 60 ﬀ.; Hauge 1979: 13 ﬀ. 15 See further, e.g., Mol 1978: 41; Voshaar 1979: 86 ﬀ.; Beckwith & Saitoti 1980: 30 f.; Århem 1985: 21 ﬀ., 24 ﬀ.; Ndoponoi 1986: passim. 16 E.g., Blumer 1927: 77; Ndoponoi 1986: 19. Blumer (1927: 77) adds that, among those Arusha whom he studied, prayers of men were usually shorter than those of women. 17 Voshaar 1979: 50 f., 82 f.; Århem 1985: 25. The supranormal role of elders and of healers, who are also believed to possess a special spiritual power and function as religious experts and leaders, will be studied particularly in chapter 7. On the great signiﬁcance of natural causation among Maasai, see the appendix. 18 See, e.g., Decken 1871: 25; Fokken 1917: 240; Mol 1978: 75, 131, 145; Voshaar 1979: 109 f.; Olsson 1982b: 1 f.; Voshaar 1998: 131. Here I follow Olsson’s custom of using enkAi for ‘God’ and enkai for ‘sky’ and ‘rain’.

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be said to be omnipresent.19 Although it is very common, it is not uncontroversial to refer to God as ‘he’.20 Voshaar and A. Hurskainen hold that the feminine form enkAi can be understood in connection with aspects of fertility, such as the signiﬁcance of rain.21 Despite the feminine form, however, ‘Maasai generally tend to think vaguely of God as a “male” entity as far as they conceive of him in personal categories at all. God is great and powerful, and these are qualities that the Maasai consider distinctive of the male sex but never associate with female beings.’22 Hauge reports that his informants always spoke of God as ‘he’.23 Yet Maasai do not seem to be very interested in or concerned with this issue. Confronted with the problem of gender, they may say that enkAi is only a ‘name’, although it is the ‘basic one’.24 EnkAi is a spiritual being, and thus nonphysical, and cannot be speciﬁed as ‘female’ or ‘male’.25 Moreover, in addition to this name, there are several other ‘female’ and ‘male’ expressions for God.26 In the term Pasai the gender preﬁx is omitted and substituted by the particle pa-, which is a common element in a number of essentially religious terms of respectful address. It can be translated ‘receiver of prayer’ or, literally, ‘the one who is prayed to (beseeched, worshipped)’.27 With reference to the expressions enkai narok (‘the black god’) and enkai nanyokie (‘the red god’), some early scholars erroneously concluded that Maasai believed in two gods.28 These colour designations seem to indicate the diﬀerent colours of the sky during the rainy seasons and the dry seasons. While enkai narok is associated with dark clouds that bring rain, enkai nanyokie refers to the red colour of the sky at sunrise and sunset 19

E.g., Hauge 1979: 17 f.; Olsson 1982b: 10 f. Voshaar (1979) is exceptional in that he consistently writes ‘She’ instead. 21 Voshaar 1979: 110 ﬀ.; Hurskainen 1984: 175; Voshaar 1998: 133 f. This may be compared, for instance, to Marari’s statement that Maasai relate God’s care for his creation to a mother’s care for her children after birth. Marari 1980: 19 f. Cf. Olsson 1989b: 4 f. On the issue of God as a provider of fertility, see also Magesa 1997: 88. 22 Olsson 1982b: 3. 23 Hauge 1979: 17. 24 Olsson (1982b: 4) stresses that if we assume that the basic meaning of enkAi is ‘sky’ or ‘rain’, i.e. something inanimate, then the question of the feminine gender preﬁx in enkAi would turn out to be a pseudo-problem. 25 See, e.g., Merker 1904: 196; Marari 1980: 14. 26 E.g., Fokken 1917: 243; Kimerei 1973: 43; Marari 1980: 22 ﬀ. 27 Kimerei 1973: 43; Hauge 1979: 18; Olsson 1982b: 6 ﬀ. 28 E.g., Hollis 1905: 264; Burns 1908: 169: Dallas 1931: 40. Cf. Johnston 1915: 481. 20

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during the dry season.29 ‘The black god’ brings rain and, consequently, grass to cattle and prosperity to people, whereas ‘the red god’ may bring famine and death. The latter expression is also a metaphoric designation for the warriors, whose bodies are painted with red ochre and who are connected with aggression and death.30 As symbolized by the expressions enkai narok and enkai nanyoki, God is the creator and giver of everything, the master of life as well as of death. He is the sustainer of the world as of all living things and actively involved in daily life. What human beings need, he provides. Maasai are, above all, provided with cattle. Through the gift of cattle, God has established a special relationship between himself and the ‘people of cattle’, although he is God of all peoples.31 God is like a father and mother of all creatures; and he ‘appears to have many of the highly respected attributes associated with extreme age, only more so’.32 Hence he is, for instance, not only wise but omniscient, not only powerful but almighty and not only old but eternal. Moreover, he is described as good and merciful. Although he is immanent and said to be everywhere, on earth as in heaven, he is also transcendent and associated particularly with all things above.33 The association of God with heaven, heavenly bodies and celestial phenomena does not preclude the depiction of him in personal and anthropomorphic terms. For example, anthropomorphic elements are common in mythical accounts of God. Among other things, he dwells in the same camp as primeval man, he converses and mingles with human beings, and he ascends to heaven via a rope. ‘This is, however, seldom understood in exegetical conversational settings as literally true. According to the transmitters themselves, the signiﬁcance is that 29

132.

Voshaar 1979: 110; Marari 1980: 22. Cf. Hauge: 1979:18 and Voshaar 1998:

Beckwith & Saitoti 1980: 26; Marari 1980: 22 ﬀ.; Olsson 1982b: 14 ﬀ. In a sense, Maasai have thought about themselves as the ‘chosen people’ of God. See, e.g., Merker 1904: 196; Schmidt 1940: 324; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 172. 32 Spencer 1988: 49. On the role of God as creator, sustainer and provider of all things, and particularly of cattle, see further Burns 1908: 170; Fuchs 1910: 96; Fokken 1917: 248; Blumer 1927: 76; Hauge 1979: 21; Voshaar 1979: 116, 125; Marari 1980: 23, 42; Århem 1987: 22. 33 See further, e.g., Merker 1904: 196; Berthold 1927:5; Blumer 1927: 75; Hauge 1979: 18; Voshaar 1979: 112; Beckwith & Saitoti 1980: 26; Marari 1980: 15 ﬀ.; Henschel 1983: 152; Landei n.d.: 21 ﬀ.; Voshaar 1998: 139, 142. Cf. Spencer 1988: 49. Words like omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, immanent, transcendent, good and merciful have been used particularly by Christian scholars. See further Westerlund 1985: 32. 30 31

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God and humans stood in a closer relationship primevally than they do presently.’34 What Maasai conclude from mythical accounts is, thus, that the ﬁrst human being had a direct experience of God and, as a consequence, knew his nature.35 Among pastoral Maasai and agricultural Arusha, prayers and oﬀerings to God are common. The important cult of God is substantiated by early as well as by more recent sources.36 For instance, Hauge reports that people pray to God every day, usually in the morning but often in the evening too. In connection with their prayers, women frequently make libations of milk.37 Prayers may be said and oﬀerings be made by individuals, families or communally by larger groups of people. The prayers of women are often in the form of prayer songs, which may be sung in connection with dancing.38 Even though there are no ﬁxed places for worship, the presence and power of God is associated especially with certain places or things such as trees and mountains. Trees are seen as one of the most powerful manifestations of God.39 The tall oreteti tree, a ﬁg tree, is of particular signiﬁcance. Oreteti trees, like mountains, rise up towards heaven and are thus, in a sense, close to God. They function as a kind of medium by which prayers and oﬀerings reach him. God, as it were, hears prayers through such entities, as he hears through heavenly bodies.40 In their prayers, Maasai ask God for the good things in life. Among other things, they ask for oﬀspring, health and a long life. Prayers are also said in order to thank God for such things.41 According to Voshaar,42 that which human beings can do and must do is not the subject of prayer. Prayers and oﬀerings are means of establishing contact or communication between the worshippers and God. Sacriﬁces may be oﬀered for a variety of reasons such as to restore health, to

34

Olsson 1982b: 31. Ibid., 51. 36 See, e.g., Decken 1871: 26; Johnston 1886: 417; Fokken 1917: 243 ﬀ.; Blumer 1927: 76; Le Roy 1928: 344; Schmidt 1940: 375 f.; Hauge 1979: 36 f.; Voshaar 1979: 126 ﬀ.; Peron 1995: 52. 37 Hauge 1979:19. See also, e.g., Fuchs 1910: 96; Voshaar 1979: 138. 38 Fuchs 1910: 110; Hauge 1979: 23; Voshaar 1979: 138 ﬀ., 245. 39 E.g., Reusch 1953/54: 88; Jacobs 1965: 139; Århem 1989: 82; Magesa 1997: 88. 40 Olsson 1982b: 22–27; Olsson 1989: 241 f. See also Voshaar 1998: 163 f. 41 Fokken 1917: 244, 246; Schmidt 1940: 390; Voshaar 1979: 133, 135. 42 Ibid., 127. 35

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ward oﬀ evil, to return gifts to God as well as to ask for propitiation. Moreover, sacriﬁces accompany all major religious ceremonies.43 Although animals are rarely slaughtered for food, there are thus a number of occasions when they may be slaughtered for ritual purposes.44 Other Spiritual Beings Because of the monotheistic and theocentric character of Maasai religion, there is little or no room for other spiritual beings. Like Fuchs,45 who was quoted at the beginning of this chapter, other early authors, in particular, emphasized the lack of such beings among Maasai.46 Merker’s biased ideas about ‘guardian angels’ were soon refuted in Fokken’s better-informed study of Maasai religion.47 There is, however, some evidence that various spiritual beings have played a more signiﬁcant role in more recent decades. As will be shown later, a spread of the phenomenon of spirit possession, which is a new phenomenon among Maasai, has recently occurred in Tanzania. In addition to these modern spirits of possession, who are foreign spirits, there is also an indigenous Maasai concept of spirit, oloirirua (pl. iloiriruani ), which refers to an evil type of spiritual being. Mol uses not only the word ‘spirit’ but also the term ‘devil’ when he translates this concept into English.48 This reﬂects a Christian usage of the concept.49 There seems to exist a certain fear of the evil spirits or iloiriruani.50 It should be stressed, however, that there is no cult of them and that, by and large, they are of minor signiﬁcance.51 In folk stories some fearful ‘monsters’ called inkukuni appear frequently. Like iloiriruani, they are not worshipped.52

E.g., Schmidt 1940: 394; Hauge 1979: 35 ﬀ.; Århem 1985: 10. For more information on sacriﬁces among Maasai, see Hauge 1979: 25–38; Voshaar 1979: 218–252. 45 Fuchs 1910: 114. 46 E.g., Thomson 1885: 259; Johnston 1886: 417; Le Roy 1892: 144. 47 Merker 1904: 196; Fokken 1917: 243. 48 Mol 1978: 149. Cf. Hauge 1979: 41. 49 Voshaar 1979: 216. 50 E.g., Bleeker 1963: 119 f.; Hauge 1979: 41; Donovan 1982: 21. 51 For some more information, see Johnston 1915: 481; Voshaar 1979: 216. Cf. Merker 1904: 202; Hollis 1905: 265. 52 E.g., Hauge 1979: 41 ﬀ.; Kipury 1983: 19. Cf. Baumann 1894: 164. 43 44

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As mentioned above, pastoral Maasai do not normally believe in an afterlife.53 Merker’s statements about a wonderful ‘paradise’ for the souls of ‘good’ people and an empty desert for ‘evil’ ones,54 which have been echoed by some other authors,55 seem to be a result of Christian inﬂuence. None of Fokken’s numerous informants were able to conﬁrm these statements.56 ‘Dead people are dead, and there is no theology about a life beyond, be it on high or down below.’57 The physical centre of a person’s life as well as ‘spirit’ or ‘soul’ is the heart. The word oltau can be translated ‘heart’, ‘mind’, ‘spirit’ or ‘soul’.58 In a sense, thus, the spiritual dimension of human beings is considered organic; and all spiritual faculties are believed to die with the body.59 As a rule, pastoral Maasai have not buried their dead. They have been left in the bush to be devoured by wild animals.60 The absence of proper graves reﬂects the lack of eschatological ideas and the aversion to digging the soil.61 Århem adds that, by carrying the corpses to the bush, people take them back to the domain of God, from where they once came. The wilderness here ‘takes on a sacred connotation’; it is ‘the sacred space of God as opposed to the secular and social space of the homestead’.62 It should be remembered, however, that some burials do take place, and that some people are believed to continue their existence after they have died. Even early sources give evidence for the belief that important or leading persons, particularly healers, iloibonok, enjoy such an existence.63 Above all, those people are also the ones who have been buried.64 Perhaps the fear or reluctance to mention names

53 This has been observed by a great number of scholars. See, e.g., Thomson 1883/84: 259; Fuchs 1910: 113; Fokken 1914: 37; Leakey 1930: 206; Bleeker 1963: 118; Hauge 1979: 43 f.; Saibull & Carr 1981: 117. 54 Merker 1904: 197. 55 E.g., Weishaupt 1930: 224. 56 Fokken 1917: 247. 57 Voshaar 1979: 123. 58 Mol 1978: 81. 59 Olsson 1989: 240. 60 Baumann 1894: 163; Fuchs 1910: 111; Hauge 1979: 54. See also, e.g., Thomson 1885:259; Hollis 1905:304; Burns 1908: 170. Cf. Decken 1871: 25. 61 E.g., Laube 1986: 116. 62 Århem 1989: 83. 63 Hollis 1905: 308; Fuchs 1910: 114. 64 Baumann 1894: 164; Schmidt 1940: 398. Cf. Decken (1871: 25) and Johnston (1886: 416 f.) who write about the burial of small children too.

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of dead ancestors may not only indicate a fear of death, or of recalling sorrow, but also a more general fear of the dead as such.65 Johnston held that, at the beginning of this century, the belief that great persons could not entirely cease to exist was ‘a gradually growing belief ’;66 and there is evidence that this belief has continued to grow in some areas. Commenting on the belief in annihilation, reported by early authors, Hurskainen writes about the current situation: ‘Whatever is the truth of the beliefs of the 19th century Maasai, the Parakuyu believe in the continuity of life after death.’67 Above all, such a belief as well as elaborate mortuary rituals and burials have become prominent features of Arusha religion. In many ways the cult or veneration of ancestors among the Arusha resembles that among neighbouring Bantu peoples such as the Meru and the Chagga. More than half a century ago, Blumer stressed that Arusha people were much more concerned with spirits of ancestors than with God, although he added that it was diﬃcult to say whether these spirits were subordinated to or put on a par with God himself.68 According to Kimerei’s interpretation, ancestors are ‘intermediaries’ between human beings and God.69 There are shrines at the graveyards where people pray and make oﬀerings to their ancestors.70 Shrines are established at the graves of fathers; and other ancestors are also approached through the dead fathers, who are the most powerful and active of them all. Rituals at the shrines are conducted by living fathers, and sons are utterly dependent on the ritual prerogatives of their fathers. Religion and Disease Causation Since natural factors are the most important causes of illness for Maasai, there is less to say about spiritual beings as agents of disease and death in this chapter than elsewhere in this part of the book. 65 Krapf 1857: 441; Voshaar 1979: 303; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 162. See also Sindiga 1995: 101. 66 Johnston 1915: 481 f. 67 Hurskainen 1984: 180. Cf. Hauge 1979: 49, 51. 68 Blumer 1927: 78. 69 Kimerei 1973: 64. This is the typical interpretation of the role of ancestors found in works by Christian scholars inﬂuenced by a theology of continuity. See further Westerlund 1985: 34 ﬀ. 70 Kimerei 1973: 66.

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As appears from one of the quotations at the beginning of this chapter,71 however, God is the ultimate cause of illness and death. This has been demonstrated in a number of other sources too.72 Galaty concludes that ‘God himself is thought to operate at levels of ultimate principles behind all fundamental processes in life’, even though ‘this monad of fundamentality does not adequately explain the particularities of individual life events’.73 In particular, it seems that serious diseases that may lead to death and death itself are frequently believed to be occasioned by God. This has been reported in works on pastoral Maasai as well as on Arusha.74 A disease or death immediately caused by God is referred to by the use of the term enkea. Such a disease or death is distinguished from illnesses and deaths ultimately caused by God but mediated by healers, iloibonok, who themselves derive their powers from God.75 Thus, enkea represents the unmediated and destructive intervention in the lives of living humans. This may be compared, for instance, to the view of birth as a result of a creative intervention by God.76 As implied in the concept enkea, disease is conceived of as a kind of death. An enkea is a serious aﬄiction which, in a sense, is a foretaste of death. Mild ailments like headache or stomach-ache, which are not serious or mortal, may generally be referred to by the use of another term, emoyan. If a person is weaker than is considered normal, and this weakness is believed to be caused by blood loss, it is regarded as something distinct from disease proper. Such weakness is cured not by medicine but by the consumption of large amounts of blood and fat. Notions of strength and weakness are usually described in the idiom of blood. Hence a strong person is ‘full of blood’, whereas a weak person is said to ‘lack blood’.77 Merker seems to indicate an element of predestination when he says that a human being dies when the lifespan, ‘predetermined’ by God, of that person has come to an end.78 To the best of my

71

Århem 1989: 80. E.g., Hollis 1905: 334 f.; Peterson 1985: 175; Olsson 1989: 236. 73 Galaty 1977: 320. 74 E.g., Fokken 1914: 32; Marari 1980: 46; Landei 1982: 59. Galaty (1977: 321) says, however, that any event may be explained by ‘the will or caprice of God’. 75 The latter type of illnesses and deaths will be studied in chapter 7. 76 Århem 1989: 80 f. 77 Ibid., 84. 78 Merker 1904: 196. 72

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knowledge, however, this statement has not been conﬁrmed in other sources. It may be compared, for example, to Fokken’s conclusion that a human being does not die until God ends the course of life of that individual.79 Merker himself says that, in the hope of recovery, a dying person may sacriﬁce a bull to God.80 In a sense, however, death and disease are beyond human comprehension, since nobody can predict the actions of God.81 When causing aﬄictions and death, God may use natural elements such as lightning and strong winds. If somebody is hit by lightning, people may say that the ‘red God’ has hit that person.82 As is the case with San, among whom destruction caused by whirlwinds is associated with the lesser deity, Gauwa, the ‘red’ aspect of enkAi appears in destructive winds. Earthquakes and the eruption of volcanoes are other means by which God may make his presence known in a destructive way.83 Olsson says that it is in certain types of discourse, like myth and liturgy, that God is seen as the ultimate cause of events in cosmos, nature, society and history. On such levels of discourse, or in such speech situations, observable facts such as lightning and volcanoes are thought of as being employed by God as ‘instruments’ or ‘methods’, impukonot (sing. empukonoto). In other words, particular events or states, like ailments, can be discussed at diﬀerent levels of discourse involving an empirically observable cause or an unobservable and intentional dimension. When Maasai discuss origins of diseases they are, thus, often heard to apply arguments according to the following lines of thought. First they try to ﬁnd out what may be the empirically observable cause, and if it is considered a suﬃcient cause they try to ﬁnd some remedy. Although the established cause may also be regarded as necessary, it may be that in some ensuing speech situations it is no longer regarded as suﬃcient. The empirically observed cause is then regarded as guided by some unobservable entity, or, more precisely, guided through a non-empirical or non-concrete dimension of it. The ‘cause’ is employed as an instrument by some ‘guiding cause’.84

79 80 81 82 83 84

Fokken 1914: 32. Merker 1904: 192. Århem 1989: 80. Fokken 1917: 241. Marari 1980: 15 ﬀ. Olsson 1989: 236.

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It is emphasized by Olsson that empirical and non-empirical causes should not be seen as alternatives. As appears from the quotation above, non-empirical causes are rather thought of as being complementary to empirical ones. This is in accordance with the situation among other peoples studied here and, as remarked in the introduction, the employment of terms such as ‘natural’ and ‘religious’ causes need not imply that these are alternatives. Voshaar holds that all objects that are used in daily life have a meaning and eﬃcaciousness beyond their immediate purpose. Hence ‘a club is not just a club’. Things like milk, grass and ﬁre are symbolically meaningful and eﬃcacious of themselves and are used in various rituals. Other things, for example tobacco containers and walking sticks, are imbued with an extra meaning and power through blessing and consecration by elders. For instance, after the birth of a baby, objects for personal or family use are blessed by the spittle of elders. In part, this is done in order to protect the mother as well as the child from sickness and death.85 Mythical Maasai versions of the origin of disease and death tell that the ﬁrst beings had to suﬀer these evils because they had disobeyed God by eating the fruit of a certain tree.86 Disease and death are henceforth implicit in the human condition. However, they may also be interpreted as God’s punishment for the transgressions of human beings here and now. According to Merker, elephantiasis is caused by incest, and malformed or stillborn babies are also the result of ‘sins’ punished by God.87 Much more recently, Spencer has demonstrated that any deformity of a baby may, continuously, be regarded as an indication of ‘some past sin dogging either parent’.88 There is in all matters concerning birth and infancy, not only among human beings but among all living things, an element of providence expressed as the prerogative of God. To take any life in embryonic form or at a young age is regarded as a sin, engoki. Misfortune will surely follow such killing. For instance, persistent Voshaar 1979: 199 ﬀ.; Voshaar 1998: 147. Merker 1904: 265; Galaty 1977: 475; Århem 1989: 79. 87 Merker 1904: 51, 175. 88 Spencer 1988: 42. Merker (1904: 51) held that malformed babies were undoubtedly killed immediately after being born. Spencer (1988: 42) says that Matapato Maasai are reluctant to discuss family tragedies and dispose of dead children unobstrusively. The general absence of congenital disabilities, he continues, ‘inevitably raises questions regarding the fate of defective babies’. 85 86

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misfortune of some elders may occur because they have killed women as warriors, not knowing that the women were pregnant.89 There is a notion that an infant is a foetus, olkibiroto, as long as it is fed wholly on the mother’s milk. It is not until milk from the herd is introduced into its diet that the ‘foetus’ becomes a ‘person’, oltungani. During the very ﬁrst period of life, when the child is particularly weak, dependent and vulnerable, it is also thought of as being especially close to God.90 There are other occasions, also, when the concept of engoki, or sin, is applicable. On the whole, evil done when life is ‘weakest’ is engoki. For example, elders and people in situations of rites de passage, that is, when a former state of life is left and a new state has not yet been entered, are vulnerable; and evil done to such categories of people may result in immediate sickness or death of the perpetrator. The punishment may even aﬀect such an evildoer’s family and animals.91 As mentioned above, trees are seen as particularly powerful manifestations of God. According to Hauge, there are certain places where the trees are never cut down, or the branches never broken, for fear of some misfortune. Maasai believe that God will punish a person for such disrespect by sending some kind of disease upon that person or upon his or her family or cattle.92 In studies of Arusha, in particular, the connection between sins and illnesses as divine punishments have been stressed. Landei argues that if somebody has done something wrong, God will sooner or later punish that person, and the punishment may not only aﬀect the individual but the corporate group as well.93 Likewise, Kimerei says that sickness is a consequence of sin and adds that almost all suﬀering may be attributed to the sins of human beings.94 It should be remarked, however, that some of Kimerei’s informants were Christian converts. Moreover, the emphasis—or overemphasis—on disease as punishment for sins may be seen as an example of the Christian theological framework of interpretation that characterizes the works of Kimerei, Landei and some others. It seems that in the early work of Merker (1904) there is a similar exaggeration of the role of God as a guardian of morals. Merker 89 90 91 92 93 94

Spencer 1988: 39. Mol 1978: 70; Spencer 1988: 41. Voshaar 1979: 190 ﬀ. Hauge 1979: 19. Landei 1982: 57 ﬀ. Kimerei 1773: 52, 55. Cf. Landei 1982: 58.

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says that since human beings are ‘weak and sinful’, God occasionally has to punish them.95 A wider comparison of sources indicates that such punishments are not generally believed to be common. It appears that, as a rule, wrongdoers are dealt with by elders rather than by God himself. Hauge even holds that, although God may be invoked to take measures against transgressors, he is in general ‘morally indiﬀerent’ and is not expected to intervene automatically.96 Similarly, Århem states that he has not heard of diseases that have been attributed directly to moral misconduct or transgression of normative rules.97 About half a century ago, Schmidt hypothesized that Maasai morals had ‘degenerated’. In his ‘inverted’ evolutionist perspective, Maasai monotheism was no longer as ‘pure’ as it once was, nor was God expected to act as a guardian of morals to the same extent as formerly. According to Schmidt, things like cattle raids and the ‘licentious’ sexual morals were earlier forbidden by Maasai laws, and God severely punished transgressors.98 Other accounts of Maasai religion do not warrant any such conclusions about signiﬁcant changes concerning the role of God as a guardian of morals. Schmidt’s, as well as Merker’s, conclusions are theoretically biased, and Hauge’s words about God as ‘morally indiﬀerent’ appear to be yet another exaggeration. As indicated by the above-mentioned expressions ‘the black God’ and ‘the red God’, for instance, God is ambivalent. Hence he is considered to embody the dual qualities of good and evil, creation and destruction, within himself.99 In his study of the Matapato Maasai, Spencer speaks about ‘a dualistic perception of God, protective on the one hand and castigating on the other’.100 Clearly, the sources are conﬂicting and do not allow any precise conclusions about the issue of diseases and death as divine punishments. On this question, as well as in other cases, the signiﬁcance 95

‘Er tut es dann durch Krankheit, Dürre oder Viehseuchen.’ Merker 1904: 196. Hauge 1979: 40. Cf. ibid., 47. 97 Århem 1989: 84. 98 Schmidt 1940: 428 ﬀ. According to Schmidt (ibid., 431): ‘Der Verfall der Sitten geht zwar Hand in Hand auch mit dem Verfall des Glaubens und der Kultur, aber der erstere geht beteutend schneller vor sich und kann schon bedenklich weiter gediehen sein, wenn auch der Glaube und noch mehr der Kult noch auf bemerkenswerter Höhe stehen.’ 99 E.g., Galaty 1979: 321; Marari 1980: 22; Hurskainen 1984: 174 f.; Peron 1995: 53. 100 Spencer 1988: 48. 96

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of variations between groups and individuals must be kept in mind too. These considerations notwithstanding, it appears that, in most cases, God is not thought of as a moral guardian who metes out punishments in the form of diseases, deaths and other forms of misfortune. He does not often seem to be involved directly as a cause of illnesses and deaths, except in the case of serious aﬄictions and when people harm certain living things, such as infants and trees, that stand in a particularly close relationship to him. Nevertheless, his role stands out as very important in that he is also indirectly involved in the actions of elders and healers who, as will be elaborated in chapter seven, wield the power of cursing which is an important cause of disease. Elders and healers stand in a special relationship to God and use their supranormal power in conjunction with him. Prayers and sacriﬁces to God often exist in connection with cases of disease; and it seems that they may be directed to him even when he is not thought of as the direct or immediate cause of the disease in question.101 In cases when God is believed to be the direct cause of an illness, he is called upon in a special manner to bring redress.102 When people are wasted by serious illnesses such as epidemics, large numbers of worshippers may be involved and several animals may be slaughtered near mountains or oreteti trees.103 Other Spiritual Beings as Agents of Disease Since the evil or bad spirits called iloiriruani can enter a person and cause mental disturbances, Hauge suggests that they may be referred to as ‘disease agents’.104 Voshaar, on the other hand, hesitates to use the term ‘spirit’ at all and says concerning oloirirua: It is something, not further speciﬁed, that enters a person and which may be said to possess that person. One who has oloirirua in him, has something in him that makes him do mad things. He utters strange sounds, throws oﬀ his clothes, walks around shouting. He is like a drunk. In fact, one who is habitually drunk, might eventually drink 101

E.g., Johnston 1915: 482; Schmidt 1940: 382; Voshaar 1979: 245. Voshaar (1979: 250 f.) holds that the sacriﬁces are reminders of life rather than gifts or substitutions for life. God himself is confronted with the facts of life: ‘See what life is, do this to us no more’. Cf. Hauge 1979: 37. 103 Kimerei 1973: 56, 59; Hauge 1979: 25, 35. Kimerei (1973: 10 f.) and Hauge (1979: 35) emphasize the element of reconciliation in sacriﬁces. 104 Hauge 1979: 41. Cf., e.g., Bleeker 1963: 120 f. 102

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chapter three himself into a state where he is said to have oloirirua. The state is diﬀerent from being stupid (emodai ), from being mad or simpleton (emunoi ), from being agitated, from being depressed etc. However all these states, that have known causes, may be the beginning of a process that eventually induces oloirirua.105

Although more research is needed to elucidate the vague and little observed phenomenon of oloirirua and its deleterious eﬀects on human beings, it appears that it has no direct relation to the modern spread of spirit possession among some Maasai in Tanzania. In the new context of possession, pepo or olpepo, a word of Bantu origin, is probably the most common name for ‘spirit’, and it is sometimes used as a genre name for a group of various spirits.106 According to Benson, pepo possession ﬁrst occurred during a brief period at the time of German occupancy. Due to great problems of drought and famine, some Maasai had to ﬂee to Bantu areas in the coastal region; and when they returned they ‘brought’ with them some foreign spirits. After that, isolated cases of possession by such spirits were reported, but it was not until the last two or three decades that this modern phenomenon became common or widespread.107 Spirit possession among Maasai has also been spread through the activities of numerous healers, waganga, from the coast, who have extended their activities to the Maasai plains. The main function of these healers is to appease the foreign spirits, who cannot be appeased by Maasai healers, iloibonok. However, the new healers are instrumental in spreading the phenomenon too. Moreover, spirit possession among Maasai has been inﬂuenced by neighbouring peoples such as Gogo and Chagga.108 When possession spreads like an epidemic, it becomes an important cause of disease. The most frequently occurring initial symptoms of possession are chronic headaches, stomach pains, pains in the back and limbs, dizziness, lack of strength, lethargy and fainting. If somebody has pains in any part of the body, and if these pains do not disappear through ordinary medical treatment, indigenous or biomedical, there is reason to suspect that there are spirits involved. Furthermore, possession is quite often linked with fear, stress and anxiety.109 Persons who are possessed by pepo can act in 105 106 107 108 109

Voshaar 1979: 216. Cf. Berntsen 1979: 289. Ibid., 266; Hurskainen 1989:145. Benson 1974: 171. Hurskainen 1989: 142. Peterson 1985: 174; Hurskainen 1989: 143.

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a way similar to that of people who have oloirirua. Hence they may shiver, run away in a mad way, throw oﬀ their garments and so on.110 Perlitz reports, for instance, that during a Christian service for possessed Maasai women, who came there to be baptized, one of the women danced naked in the church, threw herself to the ground and shouted.111 With a few exceptions only, it is Maasai women who become possessed.112 Some of the spirits of possession are animal spirits or spirits of nature, others are ‘human’ spirits representing particular ethnic groups, for instance Mgogo or Mwarusha, and yet others, such as Shetani and Jini, may be of Islamic origin. The possessed women behave in diﬀerent ways, which are said to be typical of the various spirits. A lion spirit, for example, gives the host a dangerous power.113 However, since possession brings diseases and other types of suﬀering, it is not something that people try to attain, and those who become possessed aim at being liberated from their spirits of possession. Possession is contracted through contacts with non-Maasai people, and possessed Maasai must consult non-Maasai healers or Christian churches for the purpose of exorcism. Since contacts with non-Maasai healers, and the pepo songs and incense they use in their healing ceremonies, involve risks of contracting new spirits, the healing provided by the churches is nowadays regarded as the most eﬀective way of coping with possession.114 As a consequence, there is a tendency among Maasai to think of the Christian baptism primarily as a ‘medicine’ for certain illnesses caused by spirit possession.115 While other diseases are treated by Maasai healers, modern hospitals or dispensaries, or by the use of medicines available to the patients themselves, spirit intrusion thus requires an entirely diﬀerent kind of conceptualization and treatment. ‘Spirit possession is clearly classiﬁed as a malady to be distinguished from other ailments.’116 Pepo has become a name for sickness which does not respond to biomedicine or indigenous types of healing; and Peterson concludes that Maasai men have thus far willingly brought their possessed wives 110 111 112 113 114 115 116

Voshaar 1979: 266. Perlitz 1973: 14. Peterson 1985: 175; Hurskainen 1989: 145 ﬀ. Hurskainen 1989: 144 f. Voshaar 1979: 266; Hurskainen 1989: 147. Peterson 1985: 176. Hurskainen 1989: 147.

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to the churches—but not the well ones. In a strongly male-oriented society, he adds, this may leave the impression ‘that Christianity is for women, and sick ones at that’.117 Here the Catholic Church diﬀers from the Lutheran Church, however, in that Catholics have insisted that a whole homestead be baptized rather than one sick member.118 Since pastoral Maasai do not normally believe in an afterlife, dead people are only in exceptional cases held to be able to inﬂuence the conditions of living humans. Unlike ordinary people, healers (iloibonok) may be believed to continue their existence as invisible and powerful spirits who can harm the living.119 Like living healers, as will be shown in chapter seven, dead healers can cause diseases and other types of misfortune.120 Among the Arusha the situation is much diﬀerent in that spirits of ancestors and cult of these spirits are prominent features. The importance of the spirits of ancestors as agents of disease is strongly emphasized in early works by scholars including Fokken and Blumer.121 A similar picture emerges from the more recent study by Kimerei, although he holds that the ancestors are intermediaries between God and human beings.122 When ancestors are believed to be the causes of various illnesses, Arusha pray and make sacriﬁces to them or, in the interpretation of Kimerei, through them to God.123 With regard to the Parakuyo, Hurskainen says that their belief in some kind of continuity of life in the hereafter is manifested in similar

117

Peterson 1985: 177. Voshaar 1979: 267. 119 Hauge 1979: 51 ﬀ. 120 Ibid., 56. 121 Fokken 1917: 242; Blumer 1927: 78. According to Fokken (1917: 242), the belief in a more general inﬂuence of such spirits is fairly important even among pastoral Maasai, ‘Die Erde gilt als Wohnsitz der Geister der Verstorbenen. Von ihnen hält man das Schicksal der Menschen abhängig. Diese Ansicht ﬁnden wir bei den ansässigen Ackerbauvölkern stärker ausgeprägt als bei dem Hirtenvolk der Masai. Doch auch letztere glauben an ein Eingreifen der Geister der Verstorbenen in das Leben der Hinterbliebenen, wenn auch nicht so sehr zu ihrem Unheil, so doch zu ihrem Segen.’ It seems likely that the pastoral Maasai studied by Fokken were more inﬂuenced by Arusha and other agriculturalist groups than were pastoralists in other parts of Maasailand. 122 Kimerei 1973: 56, 64. 123 Ibid., 56, 66. See also Fokken (1917: 239) and Blumer (1927: 79). Kimerei (ibid., viii), who was a careful adherent of the indigenous Arusha religion before joining the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Tanzania, reports that he once took part in an important ‘veneration service’ for ancestors, performed on his behalf, when he was at the point of dying of an unknown illness. 118

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rituals of crisis. A person who suﬀers from a disease or some other kind of misfortune is supposed to go to the place where his father was buried, or left to be eaten by animals, and bring honey beer, milk and tobacco as oﬀerings. In a prayer the dead is asked to leave the suﬀering in peace. If the cause of misfortune is thought to be misconduct against a deceased father, people may travel long distances to make oﬀerings.124 The central role of deceased fathers is emphasized even more strongly in Gulliver’s work on Arusha. He says that supplications are invariably addressed primarily to the father, even when it has been divined that another ancestor is the cause of the illness. The dead father is believed to be able to contact and inﬂuence all earlier male and female ancestors, including those whose names are forgotten, but who can still aﬀect the living.125 There are, thus, no shrines speciﬁcally for earlier ancestors which could have general signiﬁcance for a wider group.126 A woman’s agnatic ancestors may bring diseases or other kinds of misfortune upon her and her children. In such a case, her husband arranges and prosecutes the matter with her agnates—she may not even attend the rituals. It seems, however, that at least older women are far more likely to be aﬀected by their husband’s ancestors than by those of their natal agnatic kin.127 The supranormal power of a dead person can harm those living agnates who ignore their obligations. Yet the suﬀerer need not necessarily be the actual oﬀender. In case of an unusually serious and persistent illness, the head of the aﬄicted family initiates a special ceremony of supplication to the ancestors at the shrine of his homestead. Serious diseases or misfortunes may not be occasioned only by the nearer ancestors of the aﬄicted person or persons but may derive from other ancestors too. In such cases all members of the maximal lineage should attend and participate, and special pieces of the slaughtered ox are oﬀered to all the lineage dead. In practice, some lineage members who live far away may not attend; but members of the inner lineage always come, wherever they live.128

124 125 126 127 128

Hurskainen 1984: 180 f. Gulliver 1963: 83. Ibid., 78. Ibid., 142 f. Ibid., 98 f.

CHAPTER FOUR

SUKUMA SPIRITS OF ANCESTORS The religion of the Sukuma, in its practical aspects, is composed almost entirely of a direct ritual relationship with the spirits of their ancestors.1 Il faut noter tout d’abord qu’en principe chaque famille ne s’occupe que des mânes de ses ancêtres. . . . C’est à eux en eﬀet qu’elle attribue dans la plupart des cas un malheur survenu, maladie, contrariété, sterilité des époux, etc.2

Introduction In many comparative accounts of indigenous African religions, ‘ancestor worship’ has been depicted virtually as ‘the religion’ of Africa, although there are many African peoples who pay little or no attention to the spirits of the dead. However, in certain agriculturalist and agro-pastoralist cultures without highly centralized socio-political systems, spirits of ancestors have the central role in the religious system. The indigenous Sukuma culture is one example of that type of society in which the cult or veneration of ancestors is the most prominent feature. Belief in God and a few other spiritual beings is, certainly, a part of Sukuma religion, but ‘what constitutes the very focus of the ritual life’ among the Sukuma is the relationship between the living and the dead, which is visibly manifested in the cult or veneration of the ancestors.3 Even though it seems that Sukuma religion has been somewhat less heterogeneous than the religions of the San and the Maasai, the importance of variations has been stressed by several scholars who have specialized in the Sukuma too.4 There is no systematic theology 1

Tanner 1967: 5. Gass 1973 [1919]: 392. 3 Brandström 1990: chapter 6: 10. See also, e.g., Malcolm 1953: 50; Abrahams 1967: 77; Hatﬁeld 1968: 16. Cf. Hendriks 1952b: 43. 4 See, e.g., Table n.d.a.: 447; Tanner 1967: 1; Hatﬁeld 1968: 13; Ng’weshemi 1990: 3; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 64, passim. 2

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or consistent cosmology, and there are considerable diﬀerences in terms of doctrines or beliefs.5 Regarding behaviour or ritual life there may be important variations too. ‘It is impossible to say that the Sukuma do this or believe that; only the broadest principles may be common to them as a whole.’6 In 1910–11 some White Fathers reported that the Sukuma did not show a great interest in religion, at least not in the religion of the Christian missionaries.7 Yet, according to some other missionaries, there were ‘no sceptics’ among the Sukuma.8 This is questionable. As remarked by Wijsen and Tanner, it seems more likely that religious and secular attitudes, which is an analytical rather than an emic diﬀerentiation, have co-existed even before the colonial period. On the whole, they stress the individual character of Sukuma beliefs— or disbeliefs—and practices. Being individually or familially rather than communally based, Sukuma religion may be described as a ‘do it yourself ’ religion.9 Although Christian leaders have complained that materialistic or secular values have increasingly inﬂuenced the Sukuma, such leaders have concluded that many of them have clung, or still cling, to indigenous beliefs and practices.10 During the period of study here, as will be elaborated in chapter eight, witchery has been clearly more prevalent among the Sukuma than among the San and Maasai. One of the functions of some Sukuma secret societies, for example Bagika, is to combat witches and sorcerers. Societies like Bagika and Bagoyangi, one of those societies whose members are snake-charmers and specialists in treating snake-bites, may also have medical functions.11 Like rituals of secret societies, the few more open communal rituals associated with, for 5 Cory 1960: 14; Tanner 1959a: 124; Tanner 1967: 27; Balina, Mayala & Mabula 1971: 11. 6 Tanner 1967: 2 f. 7 Rapports 1910–1911: 158. 8 Gass 1973 [1919]: 394. Cf. also Bösch’s account of the Nyamwezi (1930: 39), among whom he had not found a single ‘atheist’ or ‘blasphemer’. 9 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 54 ﬀ., 61, 177. See also, e.g., Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 21, 42. Rituals carried out by chiefs for the beneﬁt of a whole community constitute an exception. 10 See, e.g., Table n.d.a: 446; Tanner 1967: 2; Ng’weshemi 1990: 1. 11 Table n.d.a: 146, 524; Millroth 1965: 146 ﬀ. In Sukuma history, secret societies and associations for the diﬀerent sexes as well as for age-groups, neighbours and other categories of people have played an important role, although they have now lost much of their signiﬁcance. See further, e.g., Table n.d.a.: 146 ﬀ.; Cory 1960: 17 ﬀ.; Juma 1960: 27 ﬀ.; Abrahams 1967: 63 ﬀ.; Wanitzek 1986: 199.

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instance, chieftainship and ceremonies connected with the agricultural cycle of the year have diminished considerably or virtually disappeared altogether,12 thus strengthening the individual and situational character of Sukuma religion. As a rule, religious practices take place when people feel there is a need for them. The concept mhola, which may be translated ‘health’, is a term referring to the desirable state of life in a most comprehensive sense. Thus, not only health—in a limited sense—but also prosperity, peace and all the good things of life belong to the realm of mhola. It is the ‘cool’ state of peace and good relations between the living as well as between the living and the dead. The state of mhola must be attained, maintained and, time after time, reattained. Busatu, illness, is a less comprehensive term than mhola. There is no inclusive expression for the state of ‘non-mhola’. However, illness and natural calamities like drought and subsequent famine (nzala), for example, are spoken of in terms of ‘not being’ or ‘lacking’ mhola.13 Spirits of Ancestors In the 1870s, when the White Father Livinhac taught the Sukuma about the ‘immortal souls’ of human beings, one ‘negro’ responded that death was the end of everything.14 Five years later, another White Father, Nathalie, reported that Sukuma people believed in ‘souls’ but not in punishments or rewards in the afterlife.15 In several respects Nathalie’s account of ancestors in Sukuma belief and practice is similar to later accounts by scholars. Moyo is a Sukuma word that has frequently been translated ‘soul’. It is associated with the heart, the breath and the shadow of a human being. Moyo is the principle or spirit of life, which is centred in the heart and maintained or manifested by the breath. The shadow is also a sign that a person is living, and dead people or corpses are said to lack shadows. When a human being dies, moyo ceases to

12 Abrahams 1967: 61; Tanner 1967: 35; Wanitzek 1986: 205 f.; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 56. 13 Brandström 1990: chapter 6: 2. See also Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 46; Blokland 2000: 15. 14 Livinhac 1879: 172. That there were some Sukuma who held this view was stated by, among others, some White Fathers in the early 1950s too (Table n.d.a.: 421). 15 Nathalie 1884: 186.

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exist.16 Within a human being, however, there is a spiritual entity, associated with the blood, which survives death. Thus, unlike animals, humans continue existing after they have died. The surviving spirit of human beings, or spirits of ancestors, are usually called masamva (sing., isamva).17 An isamva is an immaterial or incorporeal but also individual or personal power of great importance. Like Father Nathalie, other authors have concluded that there is no ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ in the Sukuma afterlife.18 Hence ‘good’ and ‘bad’ persons do not exist in diﬀerent abodes after death. As in other religions, Sukuma conceptions of the afterlife tend to be vague and conﬂicting. In some respects the life of ancestors is similar to the life of living humans. For instance, the social position is not changed in the land of spirits, and ancestors are oﬀered food products which they enjoyed in life. Spirits of ancestors may be associated with the earth and the graves as well with the air above.19 It cannot be excluded that the notions of some Sukuma, who believe that dead people go to God, are inﬂuenced by Christian or other new ideas. Wherever the spirits of ancestors may be thought to exist, they stay in the world of spirits and are not reincarnated.20 There is a close interrelationship between living and dead. Living humans relate to their own deceased agnatic as well as cognatic relatives.21 However, a wife is outside the sphere of her husband’s ancestors, and her husband does not have to fear her ancestors.22 In a sense, spirits of ancestors depend upon children and grandTable n.d.a: 419, 468; Tanner 1959a: 109 ﬀ.; Millroth 1965: 114 f. Cf. Hendriks 1952b: 1. From the Nyamwezi area, Bösch (1930: 47 f.) reported that moyo was associated with the heart or the stomach but seldom with the head or brain. See also Blohm 1933: 151 f. 17 Table n.d.a: 420 f.; Hendriks 1962: 2; Tanner 1967: 15. Apparently, there is some uncertainty concerning the proper meaning of this term. According to Gass (1973: 394), however, it is ‘without doubt’ derived from the verb kusama, move away (‘déménager’). Cf. Hendriks 1952b: 3. Brandström (1990: chapter 6: 10) says that masamva refer to the active power of the ancestors. In some areas the concept mizimu is used instead of masamva; and special categories of ancestors may have special names. See, e.g., Table n.d.a: 428; Reid 1969: 44. 18 Cf. Ng’weshemi (1990: 28), whose account is inﬂuenced by Christian conceptions. 19 Since, with the exception of dominant chieﬂy lineages, Sukuma lineages have not been and are not in any way localized, the land is not considered as belonging to the ancestors (Tanner 1959a: 123). 20 Table n.d.a: 421; Hendriks 1952b: 6 f.; Tanner 1958: 225; Tanner 1959a: 123; Millroth 1965: 116 f.; Tanner 1967: 20. See also Bösch 1930: 38, 50 f. 21 Augustiny 1923–24: 169; Hendriks 1952b: 3; Malcolm 1953: 68; Millroth 1965: 121 f.; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 11. 22 Table n.d.a: 469; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 12. 16

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children for their ‘survival’, although deceased children and adults without oﬀspring may be included in general terms when masamva are invoked. Descendants are, thus, of vital importance.23 Ancestors of three or four generations can be remembered and honoured by descendants. People of high social status, such as chiefs, remember and invoke a greater number of spirits than do ordinary people.24 Chieﬂy ancestors do not inﬂuence their own descendants only but also others in the chiefdom territory.25 In a sense, a chief was identiﬁed with his chiefdom. There are ancient chiefs, batemi, who have been honoured for more than two centuries.26 In a chief ’s ancestry, the progenitor of the lineage may be mentioned in recitations at propitiation ceremonies.27 It should be emphasized, however, that during the last few decades not many people have been concerned with activities relating to chieﬂy ancestors, and the cult or veneration of ancestors has ceased to be a part of Sukuma political life.28 This cult or veneration is manifested in a rich variety of, among other things, sacriﬁces, invocations and dances. There are simple libations of milk and beer as well as more complex rituals with sacriﬁces of ﬁne and healthy goats, sheep and cattle in large feasts. Spirits of ancestors may be invoked as individuals or as collective groups. In order to be accepted by the spirits, not only the correct performance of a ritual but also the right intentions of those who perform the ritual is important. When people invoke ancestors, they often invoke God as well. Heads of families and elders have the main responsibility for and play a big part in the cult or veneration of ancestors, although their importance and the respect for them have decreased in recent decades.29 People do not necessarily have to honour the masamva at ﬁxed places, even though the rituals or 23

Tanner 1958: 225; Hendriks 1962: 2. Cf. Tanner 1959a: 111. Tanner 1967: 13; Hatﬁeld 1968: 166; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 45. 25 Abrahams 1967: 77; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 12. Twin-ancestors as well as ancestors of famous rainmakers and great healers may also have a territorial inﬂuence. 26 Hendriks 1952b: 3; Millroth 1965: 176. 27 Tanner 1958: 225. 28 See further, e.g., Bösch 1930: 44; Tanner 1955: 274; Tanner 1959a: 115. 29 Like some other authors inﬂuenced by Christian theology, Ng’weshemi (1990: 19) interprets the role of ancestors as intermediaries between God and living humans, and he prefers to say that the ancestors are ‘revered’ rather than ‘worshipped’. Father Hendriks (1962: 7) concluded that Sukuma prayers to ancestors resembled Christians’ addresses to saints who were asked to intercede with God. See also Wijsen 1993: 108; Tanner & Mitchell 2002: 56; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 55. For more information about the cult or veneration of Sukuma ancestors, see Nathalie 24

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ceremonies are frequently performed at graves. Cult activity may also be localized at small spirit houses built in honour of ancestors and constructed from speciﬁc trees with symbolic meanings.30 Moreover, animals like cows, goats and sheep are kept in remembrance of masamva. Such dedicated animals are separated from other animals herded by a family. Dedication of animals, as well as erection of spirit houses or shrines, are often the result of some illness or other misfortune caused by spirits of ancestors. A consecrated animal may not be sold or slaughtered and is kept until it dies.31 In addition to animals, virtually all kinds of inanimate objects may be consecrated. Some of these ritual paraphernalia are articles that ancestors possessed in their lifetimes, but other objects such as arms, sticks, skins of animals, necklaces, pearls and many other things can be dedicated too. In time of illness, for instance, people bear their venerated objects.32 In 1897, Father Brard reported that sacriﬁces to ancestors were common.33 Nowadays, more than a century later, the frequency of such sacriﬁces is much lower. As early as in the 1950s, Tanner concluded that many ceremonies in honour of ancestors had virtually disappeared, and that others were markedly on the decline. Even in the more out-of-the-way parts of Sukumaland, regular everyday rituals directed to spirits of ancestors were no longer carried out.34 In 1967,

1884: 187; Augustiny 1923–24: 169; Hendriks 1952b: 8, 15, 19 f., 38 f.; Tanner 1958: 229; Tanner 1959: 120; Millroth 1965: 162; Tanner 1967: 13, 39 ﬀ.; Hatﬁeld 1968: 65; Steeves 1990: 67; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 62. 30 Augustiny 1923–24: 169; Hendriks 1952b: 6, 16 ﬀ., 32; Tanner 1959: 118; Millroth 1965: 160 f.; Tanner 1967: 32; Ng’weshemi 1990: 19; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 55. Cf. Tanner 1958: 225. In a study of the Nyamwezi, Tcherkézoﬀ (1985: 73) compares the spirit houses to altars. 31 Table n.d.a: 271 ﬀ., 617 ﬀ.; Hendriks 1952b: 13, 21 f.; Tanner 1959: 117 ﬀ.; Tanner 1967: 33; Tcherkézoﬀ 1985: 74. Among the Sukuma there is a great variety of taboos, particularly for women, and only some of them are associated with ancestors. Detailed information about taboo conceptions are found in, for instance, Gass 1973 [1919]: 440 ﬀ., passim; Table n.d.a: 626 ﬀ.; Kirwen 1974: 163. 32 Gass 1973 [1919]: 395, 397; Hendriks 1952b: 15, 23 f.; Tanner 1958: 230; Hendriks 1962: 4; Tcherkézoﬀ 1985: 72. The sacred objects referred to here, which are usually called shitongelejo (sing., kitongelejo), are not amulets or charms. Amulets may be but are not necessarily connected with the veneration of ancestors and they are even more numerous than the shitongelejo. See further Table n.d.a: 577; Abrahams 1967: 72; Tanner 1967: 29; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 59. 33 Brard 1897: 156. 34 Tanner 1958: 229; Tanner 1959: 116.

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Tanner drew the following conclusion with regard to the cult or veneration of ancestors: Now both the educated and uneducated persons neglect their ancestors for years and consider propitiating them only when they are in trouble, so that the cult of the ancestors has changed from maintaining their goodwill by regular rites as was done in the past to the present intermittent recognition of their powers to harm and the ceremonies, individual rather than collective, necessary to recover their goodwill. It is their interference rather than their benevolence that occasions the ritual.35

Sickness now seems to be the most important reason for ceremonies of propitiation. Hence it is largely in the context of disease problems that the construction of spirit houses, the consecration of various objects, sacriﬁces, initiation of individuals into secret societies and so forth must be seen. Through the various means of propitiation, health can be regained.36 Ancestors as Agents of Disease It seems that spirits of ancestors may be thought of as agents of all kinds of diseases as well as of infertility and other misfortunes, possibly with the exception of death. There are conﬂicting reports with regard to ancestors as causes of death. Whereas in some accounts it is concluded that death can be occasioned by them,37 there are other reports stating that at least ordinary ancestors are not associated with deaths. This may reﬂect the variety of beliefs held by diﬀerent Sukuma individuals and groups. According to Hendriks, ancestors cannot themselves occasion death, but they may obtain help from witches or sorcerers,

35 Tanner 1967: 24. See also Tanner 1970: 24. See further Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 55. 36 For some more information on propitiation in connection with illnesses and other types of misfortune occasioned by ancestors, see Nathalie 1884: 188; Gass 1973 [1919]: 403, 408, 410; Hendriks 1952a: 41, 44; Hendriks 1952b: 33; Table n.d.a.: 474, 496; Malcolm 1953: 23; Tanner 1958: 227 ﬀ.; Tanner 1959: 116; Tanner 1967: 24, 33, 36 f.; Hatﬁeld 1968: 63; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 20; Tcherkézoﬀ 1985: 59 ﬀ.; Steeves 1990: 81. An account of the various aspects of a speciﬁc sacriﬁcial ceremony of propitiation is found in, for example, Tanner 1959: 231. 37 See, e.g., Tanner 1967: 17; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 8; Ng’weshemi 1990: 19, 39; Steeves 1990: 69.

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who are agents of death.38 As emphasized by Tanner, moreover, ancestors are ultimately dependent on God and do not have a direct control over the forces of nature. Power over life and death is the prerogative of God but not of ancestors.39 The French quotation at the beginning of this chapter shows that, in 1919, Gass and others concluded that ancestors were seen as the main reason for maladies and other kinds of misfortune; and, even though there has been a decline in terms of beliefs and practices relating to ancestors, there are still many Sukuma who relate to these spirits as important agents of disease. To be ‘seized’ by an isamva is an undesirable experience associated with some misfortune, such as physical or mental illness.40 It appears that, in general, there are no speciﬁc diseases that are occasioned by the actions of ancestors. As a rule, the symptoms of a certain illness do not indicate if it is an ancestor at work. However, ‘social’ symptoms such as lack of respect for daily family life may do so. Moreover, if a child is doing poorly in the days immediately after its birth, that would easily be taken as a sign of ancestor action.41 According to Hendriks, there are a few diseases whose names indicate that they are connected with ancestors. For example, ihugi is the name of an aﬄiction, caused by an ancestor, which makes the sick person furious or even mad. Some masamva are particularly angry and malignant because they died a violent death. They may have been killed in time of war, of famine or of witchery, or they may have drowned or been eaten by a wild animal.42 In most cases, however, divination is needed in order to ﬁnd out not only which ancestor is at work but, ﬁrst of all, if it is an ancestor at all. Likewise, problems of fertility may be caused by spirits of ancestors but can also have human and natural causes. There are some diseases that may not be occasioned by ordinary ancestors. In particular, epidemic diseases are found in this category.

38

Hendriks 1952b: 8. Tanner 1967: 23. See further Augustiny 1923–24: 168, 170; Millroth 1965: 183; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 46. 40 Hatﬁeld 1968: 59 f.; Reid 1969: 186; Steeves 1990: 69. According to Tanner (1959a: 108), sickness may be regarded as the outward expression of the illness of moyo. Concerning the Nyamwezi, Tcherkézoﬀ (1985: 85 ﬀ.) says that when sickness comes, the ‘soul’, that is, the vital principle, diminishes, and if it does not stop, the aﬄicted person may eventually die. 41 Tanner 1959a: 114; Reid 1969: 77 f. 42 Hendriks 1962: 1 f. 39

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The masamva cause illnesses of their descendants but not of people who are not members of their own families. For instance, a string of white beads and a copper bracelet worn on the left wrist may tell us that the bearer is aﬄicted by paternal ancestors, while a string of black beads worn on the right wrist informs that a consecration has been made to maternal ancestors.43 As will be elaborated in chapter eight, diseases caused by witchery may have somewhat more speciﬁc symptoms than have aﬄictions occasioned by spirits of ancestors. Hence it may also be concluded from certain symptoms that the disease is not the result of the intervention of an ancestor. Unlike ordinary ancestors, spirits of chiefs can be the cause of epidemic illnesses. Chieﬂy ancestors may also harm their own descendants on an individual basis, but, as representatives of a whole territory, they can inﬂuence all the inhabitants of that area. Previously, chiefs attempted to control, by ritual means, deadly diseases like smallpox, plague, measles, cholera and rinderpest. Epidemics sent by chieﬂy ancestors, as well as their withholding of rains, were lethal threats to large groups of people.44 There are many reasons why spirits of ancestors may cause diseases and other types of misfortune. According to Tanner, ‘Sukuma believe that misfortune in all its forms is the result of sin which turns back on its perpetrator and spreads through his family’.45 The use of the term ‘sin’ may be somewhat misleading here. In another work, however, Tanner elucidates his use of this concept. He holds that there are ‘no absolute values’ in Sukuma morals and that moral issues are qualiﬁed by relationship, locality and the circumstances surrounding an incident. A person’s primary ties are to his or her family and tend to diminish with increasing kinship distance. ‘The average Sukuma would seem to grade his ideas of right and wrong according to the degree of relationship which he has to the person in the context.’46 43

Hendriks 1952b: 8; Table n.d.a.: 471; Steeves 1990: 69; Brandström, chapter

5: 1. 44

Hendriks 1952b: 8; Ng’weshemi 1990: 20 f.; Steeves 1990: 80. See also Tcherkézoﬀ 1985: 60; Blokland 2000: 32. There is some evidence that, in the past, ailing chiefs could be killed by ritual oﬃcers. Since, in a sense, a chief was identiﬁed with his chiefdom, he had to be healthy. If he was seriously ill, the community was aﬀected too. See further Tanner 1959a: 115; Millroth 1965: 176 f.; Abrahams 1967: 76 f. 45 Tanner 1958: 225. 46 Tanner 1967: 22.

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Needless to say, this feature is not peculiar to Sukuma, although it tends to be less pronounced in cultures where kinship ties are not quite as important as they are among the Sukuma. Many scholars emphasize the great importance that Sukuma attach to correct behaviour within the community of living and dead family members. Lineage values must be observed and ancestors must be honoured, lest diseases or other problems should follow. If grave faults, such as incest between close kin, are committed, disaster may threaten not only human fertility but even the fertility of the land. Seeing that they inﬂuence their own descendants only, ancestors cannot be depicted as upholders of Sukuma custom and morals in general.47 Another way of angering ancestors, which may result in maladies, is failure to name children after them. An ancestor can demand more than one child to be named after him or her. Name-giving is usually done soon after birth, but names may be changed later in life because of illness which has been attributed by divination to a dereliction of ﬁlial duty. The head of the lineage will invoke the ancestors and asperse the aﬄicted person at a formal ceremony. After this ceremony, however, there is no need for him or her to use the new name in everyday life, as the formal ceremony and the mention of the name therein is suﬃcient to alleviate the troubles.48 If ancestors are not properly remembered in the prayers and oﬀerings of their descendants, the spirits will occasionally cause misfortune until such remembrance is made. Masamva may also aﬀect living relatives in order to air past grievances and to demand satisfaction. Such grudges can be based upon past events which may be unknown to the living.49 A particularly unpredictable and dangerous category of ancestors are those who died in unusual circumstances and whose corpses were mishandled or lost. The absence of a corpse is a breach of lineage unity, which makes the lineage members more exposed to sickness. A large proportion of all ceremonies carried out to reduce illness are directed to the unpredictable ‘wandering spirits’.50 47 Concerning the origin of death, Sukuma share with many peoples a mythological tradition of blaming the ﬁrst woman. There are various versions of what ‘deadly sin’ she committed. One of them tells that she broke a clay pot, which she was forbidden to break or destroy. See, e.g., Table n.d.a: 422, 430, 434, cf. 423, 435, 471; Tanner 1959: 122; Millroth 1965: 199 f.; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 34; Welch 1974: 177; Steeves 1990: 69; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 18. 48 Tanner 1959: 112 ﬀ.; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 34, 41. 49 Hatﬁeld 1968: 63, 77; Steeves 1990: 66; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 63. 50 Tanner 1958: 222. See also Tcherkézoﬀ (1985: 71) who speaks about such ‘aerial’ elements causing illness among the Nyamwezi.

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A certain amount of unpredictability is a characteristic of all ancestors. Like living humans, spirits of ancestors are not good or bad but good and bad. As ambivalent beings, ancestors may be contented agents of blessings as well as discontented agents of misfortune. Thus, the surviving relatives ask their masamva to assist in providing good harvests, many children, good health and other good things in life. Since the activities of ancestors are more powerful than those of their descendants, the spiritual assistance is important in order to obtain a good life on earth.51 As emphasized repeatedly by Tanner, however, the masamva are ultimately dependent on God, even though prayers and oﬀerings are addressed directly to the former and indirectly only to the latter.52 Since ancestors are able to harm their descendants, there is some amount of awe of them; and, as indicated above, it seems that, at least in recent decades, masamva are generally asked to abstain from evil rather than to bring about good. Yet the amount of fear should not be exaggerated. The feelings of living humans towards their ancestors are a complex mixture of aﬀection and awe. In a sense, they are still one with the living members of their families rather than dominating outsiders who aggressively control the living.53 When communicating with their living relatives, ancestors can appear in dreams or possess people. Possession, particularly of women, seems to be a common phenomenon among the Sukuma. A possessed person, or ‘medium’, acts as a mouthpiece of the possessing spirit, and there are diﬀerent varieties of glossolalia. People who become possessed are both ordinary persons and healers, bafumu (sing., nfumu). Moreover, an ancestor can reveal himself or herself in the form of an animal, usually a snake, which must be well treated.54 In divination, it is the living who actively seek to ﬁnd out which ancestor is the cause of a particular disease and what complaints or 51 Hendriks 1952b: 8; Hendriks 1962: 3; Hatﬁeld 1968: 60; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 7; Steeves 1990: 68. Cf. Reid 1969: 44. 52 See, e.g., Tanner 1959a: 116; Tanner 1967: 23. 53 See further, e.g., Gass 1973 [1919]: 402; Table n.d.a: 474; Hendriks 1952b: 15; Tanner 1959: 122; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 20. Cf. the accounts by Hendriks (1952b: 8), who stresses the element of fear, and Tanner who, in some places (e.g., 1959: 121; 1967: 39), concludes that there seemed to be no such feelings towards ancestors. In another work, Tanner (1967: 21) inconsistently argues that ‘(ancestors) are feared rather than venerated’. 54 Nathalie 1884: 188; Gass 1973 [1919]: 41, 443; Bösch 1930: 49; Table n.d.a: 471, 623; Hendriks 1952b: 9, 12 f.; Hendriks 1962: 2; Millroth 1965: 119, 123 f.; Wijsen 1993: 113 f.; Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 73; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 64.

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wishes that spirit may have.55 Simple and common forms of divination are known to ordinary people, while more advanced cases are referred to specialists. Bafumu are highly specialized in various forms of divination and healing.56 Many of them are members and leaders of secret societies. Bamanga (sing., manga), the majority of whom seem to be women, are diviners who often practise as healers too, and whose contact with and possession by masamva is of vital importance.57 Although there are some bafumu who work with medicines or instruments, and do not rely on spiritual support, most of them are dependent on the assistance and power of masamva. The more successful ones are said to have a special ritual power or personal charisma called busebu.58 Much of the energy of the bafumu is devoted to the task of maintaining or re-establishing harmony between living humans and ancestors, and their attention to people in need is very personal. Yet the bafumu, most of whom are men, should not be seen as some exclusive priestly class. In principle at least, anybody can become an nfumu. Nowadays, Tanzanian authorities require licences and certiﬁcates of people who want to practise as bafumu. It appears, however, that most of them prefer to remain outside the scrutiny of administrators at all levels.59 A detailed discussion about the functions of the cult or veneration of ancestors is outside the scope of this study. Yet a few of the conclusions drawn here should be stressed. Ancestor veneration helps to keep families together. It is closely associated with the Sukuma social system and serves as a kind of social cement. Ancestors are 55 The position and signs of certain objects as well as entrails of animals are used in divination. Among the Sukuma, chicken divination is the most common instrumental form (Table n.d.a: 474; Hatﬁeld 1968: 116 ﬀ.). 56 Bufumu is an abstract concept, indicating the ‘magic component’ in a medicine or, more generally, the complexes that result from any human being’s spiritual links with his or her ancestors (Cory n.d.b: 1). When referring to the term bufumu, Hatﬁeld (1968: 90 ﬀ.) uses the expression ‘supernatural power’ and says that a person’s power and inﬂuence is attributed to his or her bufumu. We may compare here the San concept of num. Bufumu is, moreover, the name of one of the most important Sukuma secret societies. However, bafumu are not necessarily members of that society (Malcolm 1953: 68). According to Tanner (1967: 42) and Ng’weshemi (1990: 21), the term nfumu may be derived from the verb kufumbula, ‘to discover’. 57 Bumanga is the name of another important Sukuma society. 58 Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 29. The term is used for fever too. 59 See further Gass 1973 [1919]: 412; Hendriks 1952b: 9; Table n.d.a: 152 ﬀ., 503; Millroth 1965: 140 ﬀ.; Tanner 1967: 42 ﬀ., 49; Hatﬁeld 1968: 145, 151, 153, 287; Reid 1969: 95, 104; Pedersen 1977: 64; Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 45.

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interested in the successful continuation of their lineages, and their presence sanctions the moral behaviour of individuals within speciﬁc families. It was indicated above that to a certain extent ancestors seem to have an intermediary function, since God is invoked in connection with prayers and rituals directed toward masamva. In the following section, the role of God in Sukuma religion and disease causation will be presented.60 God in Sukuma Thought Among the Sukuma, there is, with certain local variations, a great number of words for God the creator. Many of the names indicate attributes of God. The most common names seem to be associated with the sun too. This link between God and the sun is found among many African peoples. Lyuba, Liuba and Liova are some of the Sukuma forms referring to God as well as to the sun. The preﬁx li, which is found in several names for God, is augmentative, thus adding a meaning of grandeur or greatness. Another common name is Liwelelo, which refers to God and to the universe. It is used to address the omnipresent God, who is immense and puissant. God is not identiﬁed with the sun and the universe. These entities should rather be seen as symbols or manifestations of him. According to Brandström, Liwelelo is the Sukuma-Nyamwezi term for ‘the totality of the universe’. It designates the Unknown, ‘something beyond human control’.61 God is the ruler of the sun and the universe. Other names indicate diﬀerent aspects, intentions or facets of God’s character. For example, there are several names for God as creator. Nowadays, non-Sukuma names such as Mungu and Mulungu are frequently used too.62

60 For more discussions of the function of ancestor veneration among the Sukuma, see Hendriks 1952b: 4; Table n.d.a: 447; Tanner 1959a: 115, 120; Tanner 1967: 26; Ng’weshemi 1990: 24; Steeves 1990: 67. 61 Brandström 1990, chapter 5: 22; chapter 6: 9. 62 See further, e.g., Nathalie 1884: 186; Gass 1973 [1919]: 385; Table n.d.a: 412 ﬀ., 507; Tanner 1956a: 45; Cory 1960: 15; Millroth 1965: 19 f., 46, 95 ﬀ.; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 2; Ng’weshemi 1990: 8 ﬀ. One of the ‘localized’ names for God in Sukumaland is Ngassa. This name is associated with water holes, rivers and, above all, Lake Victoria. It designates God as the ruler of this great lake. See Tanner 1967: 5; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 5. Cf. the accounts on the Nyamwezi in Bösch (1930: 26 ﬀ.) and Schönenberger (1961).

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As creator and master of the universe, God is without beginning and end.63 He is the Supreme Being and, consequently, pre-eminent over lesser spirits. Since he is the major power in the hierarchy of beings, everything else is contingent upon him. Ultimately, he is the master of life and death, the manifestation of power in its totality.64 If symbolically ‘male’, God is incorporeal and invisible. Unique and unlimited, he has no family and no particular living place, although in invocations he is associated with the heavenly realm.65 In comparison to Maasai, for instance, Sukuma seem to be much less concerned with the immanent presence of God. Hence transcendence is a primary characteristic of God in Sukuma thought. In some scholarly accounts, he is even depicted as a deus otiosus.66 There is a signiﬁcant element of ambivalence in the nature of God, although several authors conclude that he is regarded as primarily good.67 Tanner, for example, holds that God ‘is above the petty inﬂuences of man’ and that his character is ‘primarily good’.68 Yet he does not seem to be directly concerned with particular cases of good or bad actions. In other words, his interest in the moral system is theoretical rather than concrete, even though he may be described as an ultimate judge.69 Since God’s transcendence and noninvolvement in human aﬀairs are pronounced features of Sukuma religion, it is not surprising that there is little or no cult of God. Both early and later sources show that Sukuma have seldom prayed

63

Nathalie 1884: 186; Table n.d.a.: 416; Welch 1974: 175. Table n.d.a.: 416; Tanner 1956a: 45 f., 51; Millroth 1965: 99; Hatﬁeld 1968: 54; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 4. 65 Table n.d.a: 412, 417; Millroth 1965: 99; Tanner 1967: 6. 66 See, e.g., Cory 1960: 15; Tanner 1967: 7; Hatﬁeld 1968: 55, 76. Unlike these anthropologists, some scholars of religion have described God as actively involved in the aﬀairs of human beings (e.g., Millroth 1965: 205; Ng’weshemi 1990: 18, cf. 7). Although, as will be seen, there are certainly some examples of belief in such involvement, their view seems to be exaggerated and to some extent inﬂuenced by Christian theology. Cf. Wijsen 1993: 112; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 62. 67 See, e.g., Table n.d.a.: 417; Millroth 1965: 104; Ng’weshemi 1990: 38. 68 Tanner 1967: 7. Cf. Brandström (1990, chapter 6: 9) who stresses more strongly the ambivalent nature of God: ‘(Liwelelo) is both an ultimate value and a non-value. It is an ultimate value in that it covers everything and it is a non-value in the sense that it represents neither plus nor minus, neither good nor bad.’ 69 Table n.d.a.: 448, cf. 417; Tanner 1956a: 448; Millroth 1965: 100; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: iii. Cf. Ng’weshemi 1990: 12, 26. According to Tanner (1967: 7), Sukuma view God as being ‘very largely indiﬀerent to man’s activities’. 64

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and sacriﬁced directly to God. Likewise, temples or shrines have not been built in his honour.70 In a sense, however, there is an ‘indirect’ cult of God. As indicated previously, God may be invoked when people address their ancestors.71 In some exceptional cases, furthermore, people can pray and sacriﬁce directly to God himself. Such a cult is usually in the form of petitions for something, such as rain and children. If there is a threat of war or before starting a long and risky journey, people may also turn directly to God. Of particular interest here is the evidence for prayers and sacriﬁces in connection with cases of epidemics and other serious diseases.72 People may ask God to heal them from such serious aﬄictions.73 Unlike spirits of ancestors, God is not often seen as an agent of disease. However, there are instances of his involvement in cases of illness and death. In principle, it appears that any case of disease and death may be attributed to God. While ancestors tend to be seen primarily as agents of fairly benign aﬄictions, diseases caused by God are usually more severe. When attempts to heal sick people by addressing ancestors, who have been associated with their maladies, fail, God may be seen as the real cause of their problems.74 If God decides to take a person away, there is no medicine that can stop the process of dying. Primevally, God was not only the giver but also the terminator of life; and, ultimately, he is still the master of life and death. In the ﬁnal analysis, thus, health and disease are under his control.75 It is generally recognised that a man cannot be sick without the connivance of the Supreme Being, irrespective of the attitude of the ancestor spirits . . . Should a man have a prolonged illness before he died, it would be said that the Supreme Being cannot be beaten but that 70

Brard 1897: 156; Gass 1973 [1919]: 387; Cory 1960: 15; Tanner 1967: 8; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 10; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 174. Concerning the similar situation among the Nyamwezi, see Bösch 1930: 39; Schönenberger 1961: 949. Cf. Ng’weshemi 1990: 14 f.; Wijsen 1993: 108. 71 Table n.d.a: 440 f.; Cory 1960: 440 f. 72 Nathalie 1884: 189; Bösch 1930: 39 ﬀ.; Table n.d.a.: 443 f., 507; Millroth 1965: 125; Ng’weshemi 1990: 16 f. Cf. Wijsen 1993: 158. 73 Table n.d.a.: 444; Ng’weshemi 1990: 17. 74 Gass 1973 [1919]: 386; Table n.d.a.: 447; Tanner 1956a: 49, 52; Tanner 1967: 9 f.; Ng’weshemi 1990: 12; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 55. 75 Gass 1973 [1919]: 385 f.; Table n.d.a.: 418; Balina, Mayala and Mabula 1971: 3, 43; Ng’weshemi 1990: 11. Concerning the Nyamwezi, see Bösch 1930: 36; Blohm 1933: 189. It seems that death may not necessarily be seen as something entirely bad.

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chapter four his ancestors were very strong . . . and if he should recover, that the intentions of the ancestor spirits have been agreed to by the Supreme Being.76

Tanner even speaks about a sense of ‘fatalism’, or predestination, among the Sukuma. God dispenses luck, or bad luck, although no particular system of giving or withholding luck can be discerned.77 Similarly, Brandström concludes that God may be brought in to describe ‘wonder, the unexpected and the unexplainable’.78 According to Brandström, God is ‘beyond dualism’ and ‘all anthropomorphic characteristics’.79 Other sources indicate that, as death was ﬁrst sent as a punishment, God may at times punish evildoers by sending illness and death, even though he is not generally seen as the upholder of the moral system.80 Moreover, Tanner reports that illness can be interpreted as a warning from God, and in such a case there is good hope of ultimate recovery.81 Other Spiritual Beings Among the Sukuma there are few, if any, spiritual beings apart from God and the spirits of ancestors. There are certain beings associated with lakes, mountains, hills and other parts of nature that could be referred to as spirits of nature. It seems, however, that such beings have a very marginal position in Sukuma religion.82 As a rule, they stand aloof from human beings and are not objects of cult.83 Scholars, and apparently the Sukuma themselves, vary a great deal in their conceptions about the nature spirits. A basic question is whether they are seen as separate or individual beings at all, and if they were

According to Tanner (1956a: 47), there is a popular saying that without death people would not have enough room to live. Death may, thus, be regarded as a ‘clearing away’ by the Supreme Being so that all ‘may live well’. 76 Tanner 1956a: 50. See also Tanner 1967: 10; Steeves 1990: 63. 77 Tanner 1956a: 51. See also Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 62. 78 Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 10. 79 Ibid., chapter 6: 25. 80 Perhaps this idea of disease and death as punishments from God has been somewhat exaggerated by scholars of religion. See, e.g., Bösch 1930: 37 f.; Table n.d.a: 418; Millroth 1965: 104, 183; Ng’weshemi 1990: 7, 12, 24. 81 Tanner 1956a: 49. 82 Brard 1897: 152 f.; Hendriks 1952b: 43 ﬀ.; Cory 1960: 90; Pedersen 1977: 62; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 59. Millroth (1965: 111 f.) reports a guardian of animals too. 83 Tanner 1956a: 45; Hatﬁeld 1968: 47.

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once human beings, or if they are conceived of as a kind of emanation from the Supreme Being.84 At least the most frequently described ‘spirit of nature’, Ngassa, is usually depicted as a manifestation or localized function of God rather than as a separate and independent being. According to Gass and others, Ngassa is the designation for God as the master or guardian of Lake Victoria.85 Before embarking upon their voyage across the lake, sailors may sacriﬁce to Ngassa, who may also be invoked in connection with the veneration of ancestor spirits.86 Spirits of nature are of very minor, if any, signiﬁcance as agents of disease and death. The sacriﬁces to Ngassa are made in order to avoid death by drowning and other problems. In the main, however, it seems that when other spiritual beings than ancestors are thought of as causes of disease, possession and various attacks on people, those spiritual beings are of foreign origin, such as the Swezi spirits.87 Other foreign spirits, like mashetani, majini and mapepo, have entered Sukumaland through contacts with Muslims. Such spirits have increasingly become the best available explanation for personal misfortune which divination does not attribute to ancestors or witchery.88

84 For some diﬀering accounts, see Hendriks 1952b: 44 f.; Tanner 1956a: 45 f.; Millroth 1965: 107 ﬀ.; Hatﬁeld 1968: 49; Steeves 1990: 63 ﬀ. 85 Gass 1973: 386. See also Tanner 1956a: 46; Tanner 1967: 5; Welch 1974: 183; Pedersen 1977: 62. Cf. Millroth 1965: 107 f. 86 Table n.d.a.: 481; Millroth 1965: 109; Welch 1974: 183. Cf. Brard 1897: 152 f. 87 Millroth 1965: 109, 113; Abrahams 1967: 78. With regard to the Nyamwezi, Blohm (1933: 173) pointed to the inﬂuence of foreign spirits. Cory (1960: 15 f.) held that, although spirits of nature did not normally take any interest in this world, they could occasionally be induced by powerful ‘magicians’ to cause evil. He mentioned Simungala as an example of a particularly dangerous ‘demon’ that could cause smallpox, plague and other epidemics. However, the observance of taboos, the avoidance of provocation and the use of protective medicines were considered suﬃcient to keep away the displeasure of such spiritual beings. 88 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 61.

CHAPTER FIVE

KONGO SPIRITS OR NKISI Le fétichisme . . . c’est à peu près à cela que se résume toute leur religion.1 Every nkisi has its own aﬄiction that it imposes, and it is used also in the treatment of the same.2

Introduction As indicated by the ﬁrst quotation above, as well as by many other writings from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, socalled fetishism was at that time the predominant element in the Kongo religion.3 Time and again western missionaries and colonial rulers launched attacks on the concepts of nkisi. ‘Fetishes’ (nkisi or minkisi), that is, sacred objects associated with certain spirits, were destroyed in bonﬁres. The American anthropologist Janzen concludes that, as a result of the ‘crusade’ against nkisi between 1890 and 1930, which was joined by African prophets like Simon Kimbangu, region by region in the Lower Congo responded to the call by abandoning or burning most of their nkisi.4 The Kongolese world or cosmos is divided into one visible and one invisible part. The visible world of the living is above the earth, and the invisible world below is inhabited by ancestors and other spiritual beings. During the nineteenth century, according to MacGaﬀey, ‘a sense of the dead as moving, by a series of transformations in the afterlife, through a hierarchy of increasingly remote but also more powerful and functionally less speciﬁc positions in the other world, apparently corresponded to the existence in the real world of hierarchies

1

Extrait 1895: 576. Laman 1962: 69. 3 See also, e.g., De Hert 1895; Marichelle 1898: 595; Le Scao 1908: 333; Sadin 1910: 132 ﬀ. 4 Janzen 1978: 50. See further Axelson 1970: 47, 142; Hagenbucher-Sacripanti 1973: 31; Mahaniah 1973: 227; Janzen 1979: 211; Widman 1979: 147; Pambou 1980–81: 42. 2

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and titles’. After the nineteenth century, however, ‘the collapse of real political structures above the village level entailed the collapse of the spiritual hierarchy, so that the notion of ranked classes of spirits is now poorly articulated’.5 In addition to the belief in and cult of nkisi and ordinary ancestors, the Kongo religion, as well as other indigenous religions in the matrilineal Bantu belt of western Central Africa, also contains belief in, but little or no cult of, the Supreme Being or God. The uniformity of the structure of religion in this area has been stressed by, among others, Vansina, Jacobson-Widding and MacGaﬀey.6 As pointed out by Pambou, however, there is no systematic theology and dogmatics.7 Moreover, as early as in 1910, Sadin observed in an essay on the Kongo religion that religious specialists were ‘very often’ sceptical about the power of the nkisi spirits.8 The long history of missionary presence among the Kongo means that some particulars of the indigenous Kongo religion have been inﬂuenced by Christianity. Yet, as emphasized by Widman, it is diﬃcult or sometimes impossible to see in what ways and to what extent this inﬂuence has aﬀected the indigenous religion.9 As in the other cases studied in this book, disease etiologies among the Kongo are related to religion but also to human and natural factors. ‘Disease’ (mayeela) is a broad category of aﬄictions of all kinds, or conditions perceived as such. The ‘why me?’ question is important. Thus, people want to know why aﬄictions are distributed as they are and rarely admit chance as an explanation.10 While common and benign aﬄictions may have natural or physical causes, spiritual and human agents tend to be suspected in more serious cases. Considering the importance of the latter agents of illness, social groups are largely involved in the process of healing or therapy.11

5 MacGaﬀey 1983: 129. See also Janzen 1978: 23; Mahaniah 1979: 218; JacobsonWidding 1979: 332 f. Cf. Mahaniah 1982: 30 f., 48. 6 Vansina 1975: 671 ﬀ.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 25 f.; MacGaﬀey 1986: 185. 7 Pambou 1980–81: 38. See also Bouquet 1969: 23; Thiel 1974: 641. Vansina (1975: 574) remarks that myths are not very elaborate. 8 Sadin 1910: 135. 9 Widman 1979: 39. 10 MacGaﬀey 1983: 148. 11 See further, e.g., Mahaniah 1973: 229 f., 231 ﬀ., 237 f.; Janzen 1978: 8, 67, 73, 224 f.; Mahaniah 1982: 16, 63 ﬀ., 67 ﬀ.; Dimomfu 1984: 76.

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Spirits of Ancestors Even though, as indicated above, the nkisi were the predominant spiritual beings in the Kongo religion in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, ordinary spirits of ancestors were also important. Since the cult of nkisi, or very ‘old’ spirits of ancestors, is related to the cult or veneration of ordinary, or ‘young’ ancestors, it is reasonable to present the latter and their role as agents of disease ﬁrst. In addition to the life-essence, or principle of life (moyo), which is associated with the blood and the heart, human beings have an element, or ‘soul’, that survives the death of the body.12 Van Wing neatly expressed the signiﬁcance of ancestors by saying that ‘the dead are the living par excellence’.13 For two to three generations, ancestors (bakulu, sing. nkulu) are still lineage members and interact closely with their relatives on earth. A special category of ancestors, associated with witchery, are the bankuyu or minkuyu (sing. nkuyu) or ‘ghosts’. Although in some dialects, and for some people even within the same dialect area, one of these Kongo terms—bakulu or bankuyu— may indicate the alternative concept, ‘bakulu refers most often to primarily benevolent spirits with some known or implied genealogical relationship to the living, whereas min’kuyu are usually malevolent, unattached ghosts who are not supplicated but exorcised’.14 Similarly, there is some uncertainty and variation concerning the term basimbi (sing. simbi ), which refers to another category of spiritual beings, who are also somehow related to the nkisi. According to some Kongolese, the simbi spirits are distant ancestors, who have lost their individuality, while others seem to believe that they are a special class of beings in the underworld, created by Nzambi, the Supreme

12 Nsala and mwela are Kongo terms for the ‘soul’. The complex Kongo views of human beings have been elaborated by, among others, Laman (1962: 1 ﬀ.) and— largely following Laman—Jacobson-Widding (1979: 307–323). See also, e.g., Proyart 1819: 151; van Wing 1959: 376; Janzen 1978: 158; Widman 1979: 106 ﬀ.; MacGaﬀey 1986: 50 ﬀ., 135. 13 van Wing 1959: 250. 14 MacGaﬀey 1986: 64. MacGaﬀey (ibid.) adds that ‘this apparent vagueness is characteristic of all status designations, including kinship terms, and many related expressions’. The vagueness in the use of the terms bakulu and bankuyu may be illustrated by comparing the accounts of, for instance, Laman (1916: 199, 205 f.), Widman (1979: 92) and Dalmalm (1985: 64). See also Jacobson-Widding 1979: 94 ﬀ., 103 ﬀ.; Pambou 1980–81: 39. Cf., e.g., Hersak (2001: 615, 622), who writes about the Vili and Yombe in the north-western Kongo region.

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Being or God. They may also be associated with certain parts of nature, such as rivers and streams, and thus be conceived of as local spirits or spirits of nature. According to some people, moreover, the basimbi are the spirits of those who died a violent death. Like ordinary ancestors, the basimbi are generally benevolent, although they can be capricious and ambivalent.15 The life of ancestors in their invisible world is similar to that of living humans, but in most respects the world of the dead inverts the latter. Hence, for example, to the ancestors six a.m. is nightfall. Since dead people have been conceived of as white, missionaries and other white people from the west have been thought of as returning ancestors. In a sense, the grave is the house of the deceased in the afterlife, and cemeteries are usually situated in mixed forests that grow up on the sites of abandoned villages.16 Yet ancestors are not tied to their graves but also associated with the wider forest, the underground and the ocean or other forms of water. Certainly, intellectuals of indigenous Kongo society may provide analytical accounts of ancestors and other otherworldly forces. MacGaﬀey points out, however, that individual informants are chieﬂy aware of the unique reality of their own experiences. Therefore, their answers to questions regarding, among other things, the whereabouts of the ancestors tend to be anecdotes, which may seem contradictory, rather than coherent analytical summaries.17 Since ordinary ancestors, or bakulu, are generally benevolent and peaceful, they do not belong to the most important agents of disease. As a rule, they protect rather than harm their living relatives.18 Yet certain aﬄictions may be occasioned by bakulu. For instance, they can cause minor problems such as headaches.19 Laman and JacobsonWidding stress, in particular, the signiﬁcance of paternal ancestors.

15 In the seventeenth century, according to MacGaﬀey (2000: 212), a hierarchy of simbi spirits corresponded to a hierarchy of political domains. For more details on basimbi, see Laman 1916: 206; Laman 1962: 33 ﬀ.; Buakasa 1973: 239; JacobsonWidding 1979: 114 ﬀ.; Widman 1979: 190; Mahaniah 1982: 34; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 69; MacGaﬀey 1983: 133, 145; Dalmalm 1985: 65; MacGaﬀey 1986: 63, 68, 76 ﬀ., passim. On the issue of regional variation, see e.g. Hersak 2001: 615. 16 Sadin 1905; Vansina 1975: 672; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 98; Widman 1979: 89, 116 f., 134; MacGaﬀey 1986: 45 ﬀ.; MacGaﬀey 2000: 206. 17 MacGaﬀey 1986: 88 f. 18 Laman 1916: 207; van Wing 1959: 379; Mahaniah 1982: 231. Cf. MacGaﬀey 2000: 222. 19 Janzen 1978: 178; MacGaﬀey 1986: 67.

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According to Laman, the paternal power (kitata) is the key element in the ancestor cult or veneration of the matrilineal Kongo society. As will be elaborated in chapter eight, living fathers, who do not have jural power over their own children, have an extraordinary power of cursing the children if they do not respect and pay due homage to their fathers. A father’s curse can result in illness and other types of misfortune.20 Likewise, dead fathers can punish descendants who misbehave. For instance, a son can become passive, depressed and even impotent. Impotence in a wide sense is a characteristic aﬄiction caused by (living or dead) fathers. Correspondingly, infertility or various kinds of passiveness can aﬀect a daughter. Whenever somebody feels that he or she is not successful and has lost vitality, the eﬀect of the paternal power is easily suspected. Ordinary maternal ancestors, by contrast, usually do not occasion aﬄictions.21 To some extent bakulu superintend the social and moral order. Ancestors are thought to be like the elders they recently were. Hence they are very conscious of their due and likely to punish disrespect. In general, the punitive tendency is considered justiﬁable, although there may also be unacknowledged motives and hidden hostilities.22 In order to please the ancestors it is important to provide a proper cult. The Kongo cult or veneration of ancestors is essentially directed to deceased fathers and other paternal relatives, that is, members of the father’s lineage. Fathers are honoured through gifts. Palm wine and other oﬀerings are brought to the burial places, and the fathers reciprocate by protecting and blessing their descendants. The cult of chieﬂy ancestors is particularly elaborate. More serious aﬄictions, such as epidemics, can be caused by deceased chiefs, who then have to be supplicated and appeased.23 Like the bakulu, the basimbi do not belong to the most important agents of disease. According to T.K.M. Buakasa, the latter may also play a certain role as guardians of morals and punish transgressions.24

20

Laman 1962: 46. Jacobson-Widding 1979: 384 ﬀ. 22 van Wing 1959: 379; Laman 1962: 49; Janzen 1978: 178; MacGaﬀey 1983: 145 f.; Dalmalm 1985: 175. 23 See further Laman 1916: 209 f.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 111 ﬀ., 128; Widman 1979: 126 ﬀ. 24 Buakasa 1973: 240 f. 21

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They inﬂuence the fertility of women, as well as of ﬁelds. Abnormally born children, particularly twins and albinos, are regarded as a sort of incarnation of simbi spirits. Twins are regarded as an aﬄiction in two senses: literally, because it is a great burden on their mother to nurse them and to try to keep them alive, and mystically, in that twins, as bisimbi, use their supernatural power (kindoki, ‘witchcraft’) to bewitch each other and other people who incur their displeasure. The principal purpose of the rites of the cult is to keep the children themselves and other bisimbi connected with them happy. A subsidiary purpose is to cure certain diseases that may aﬄict members of a lineage into which twins have been born and that has thereby been revealed as particularly susceptible to simbi inﬂuences.25 By contrast to the generally benevolent bakulu and basimbi, the bankuyu are malevolent and extremely malicious. Hence they can cause serious aﬄictions, and some diseases may require the exorcizing of bankuyu.26 Van Wing reports that human ﬂesh is to these noxious beings, who are condemned to anonymous wanderings, what pork is to ordinary Kongo people, that is, the choice dish.27 There is evidence that in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries the cult or veneration of bakulu was, in general, a very important element alongside the cult of the nkisi in the indigenous Kongo religion.28 During the modern era of colonial rule, however, the signiﬁcance of the ancestors, and particularly of chieﬂy ancestors, declined gradually. Nowadays bakulu are rarely invoked and seldom suspected as agents of aﬄictions. Even bankuyu, unlike living ‘witches’ or ‘sorcerers’ (bandoki ), are rarely depicted as such agents.29 Nkisi Spirits While the bakulu are ‘young’ and the basimbi are ‘old’ ancestors, the nkisi (or minkisi ) form a third category of even older ancestors, although the borderline between basimbi and nkisi is sometimes blurred. Some

25

MacGaﬀey 1986: 85 f. Laman 1916: 206; Laman 1962: 21 f.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 103 f.; Mahaniah 1982: 31. 27 van Wing 1959: 291; MacGaﬀey 1986: 73. 28 See, e.g., Sadin 1910: 139; van Wing 1959: 348, cf. 423. 29 Mahaniah 1979: 225; MacGaﬀey 1986: 71 ﬀ. Cf. Widman 1979: 142. 26

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of the latter have existed from the very beginning of the Kongo people. In addition to the great number of minor and local nkisi, there are more than one hundred major ones. Among them are the founders of the Kongo sub-groups or clans.30 In order to glorify and mark the great signiﬁcance of the highest nkisi, the concept of Nzambi, the Supreme Being, may be used as a symbolic designation for them. Thus, they are closely associated with God. Some nkisi are conceived of as male, others as female; yet others are sexless.31 These spirits can be connected to all sorts of places on land, in water and in the sky. They can also be divided into diﬀerent ‘families’ with specialized activities.32 Nkisi spirits are, moreover, associated with certain sacred objects, ‘fetishes’, of diﬀerent kinds and sizes.33 The nkisi objects are produced, often in the form of sculptures that look like human beings or, more rarely, like animals. Pots, baskets and similar things may also be used. The objects have medicines attached, sometimes in a hole in the stomach area and sometimes in a medicine bag. Religious specialists known as banganga (sing., nganga), for whom healing is an important activity, know and teach how to produce nkisi objects and what prescriptions must be followed. There are certain taboos that an owner of a nkisi object must observe. The medicines are chosen for both symbolic and pharmacological reasons. For instance, there may be heads of snakes in particularly dangerous nkisi, and hair of an albino provides an albino’s special power. However, there may also be herbal medicines in the nkisi object which, supplemented by more such medicines, can be used in the treatment of diseases. In the nkisi cult, thus, ‘religion’, ‘magic’ and ‘science’ merge. Nkisi objects in the form of human beings, which may be due to Catholic inﬂuence, have bent legs, symbolizing the vitality and strength of the spirits. In certain areas some sculptures have nails or other sharp things hammered into them. This may also be a late innovation, possibly inﬂuenced by cruciﬁxes.34 According to, among others, Laman and Lagercrantz, 30 Laman 1928: 18, 20; Thiel 1974: 638; Janzen 1978: 45; Widman 1979: 147; MacGaﬀey 1990: 4. 31 Laman 1917: 293; Widman 1979: 183; Jacobson-Widding 1983: 387; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 68. 32 Laman 1928: 20; Vansina 1975: 672; Janzen 1978: 46; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 67, 70. 33 See further Laman 1962: 67; van Wing 1959: 383; Buakasa 1968: 154 f.; Dalmalm 1985: 65; MacGaﬀey 1990: 5 f. 34 Cf. MacGaﬀey 2000: 99.

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the nails are meant to hurt and thus activate the nkisi spirit.35 Moreover, a nkisi can be ritually ‘killed’ by driving nails into it.36 In addition to being important agents and healers of disease, the nkisi have a number of diﬀerent functions. For instance, they can bring good luck in hunting, detect thieves, protect against bandoki, give fertility to women and good harvests. There are nkisi for diﬀerent ages, for men and women, for war, diﬀerent trades and so forth. In part, they can be seen as guardian spirits of individuals and groups. Previously, a chief in a village could compose a great nkisi for the protection of all the inhabitants in the village. Like human beings, however, the nkisi are more or less ambivalent and can thus harm as well as protect. According to Laman, the later nkisi have more specialized functions than the oldest ones.37 The nkisi can intervene in every aspect of life, be it in the social, political, legal or religious sphere. A nkisi can operate of its own accord, or by order of a nganga or ndoki, but its sphere of action is restricted by its inherent qualities and specialization.38 For instance, there are nkisi for diﬀerent ages. Some are primarily for men, others mainly for women. Male nkisi tend to be more violent than the female ones, who are more calm and peaceful. As indicated above, there are three great groups of nkisi. Their medicines and power derive from these respective spheres, although it is rare for a nkisi to have all its medicine from only one of these spheres. The families of nkisi are organized in a way that is similar to the system of matrilineal lineages among the Kongo, even though they are less elaborate than the latter.39 As indicated by the second quotation at the opening of this chapter, a nkisi normally has its own sickness that it imposes, and it is used also in the treatment of the same malady.40 Some nkisi can cause several illnesses. Conversely, the same kind of illness can be

35

Laman 1962: 90; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 81. See also, e.g., MacGaﬀey 2000:

105. 36 MacGaﬀey 1986: 159. For more information on nkisi objects, see Laman 1928: 16, 19, 25 f.; Laman 1962: 67 ﬀ.; van Wing 1959: 384, 410; Buakasa 1973: 177, 227; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 139 ﬀ., 152; Widman 1979: 153 ﬀ., 183, 201 f.; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 71, 77 f.; Dalmalm 1985: 65; MacGaﬀey 1986: 138 f., 140, 142 ﬀ. 37 Laman 1962: 71, 100. See further, e.g., van Wing 1959: 385, 394; Buakasa 1968: 156, 163; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 139; Widman 1979: 187 ﬀ. 38 Laman 1962: 75. 39 Laman 1962: 71 f.; Buakasa 1973: 236 f.; Widman 1979: 185 f. 40 See also, e.g., Sadin 1910: 133; Jacobson-Widding 1983: 387.

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brought by diﬀerent nkisi. Virtually all sorts of diseases, including very serious and chronic ones—even death, can be occasioned by nkisi spirits. In general, aﬄictions brought by female spirits tend to be less serious than those that are caused by male ones.41 Apparently, it is more diﬃcult to see any major diﬀerences between earth, water and air nkisi in terms of aﬄictions caused by them.42 A malady is often called by the name of the nkisi that provokes it. Based on interviews with seven informants in 1980, Mahaniah made a list of illnesses that may be caused by nkisi and other spiritual beings. This list shows that the variety is great.43 In the following, some examples will illustrate the multiplicity of aﬄictions caused by various nkisi spirits. Nkondi is a great nkisi who previously was invoked in connection with peace settlements and other forms of agreements between, for instance, clans and villages. A breach of a contract could result in illness. Nkondi could attack culprits of his own accord or after being induced to do so. Like chiefs, thus, Nkondi maintained public order. Nkondi nkisi are important also because they belong to those that can destroy bandoki. On account of diﬀerent specializations and compositions there are several Nkondi variants. For example, one attacks the organs of respiration, while another spreads small scabby sores. A Nkondi nkisi can also cause epilepsy and a range of other aﬄictions.44 Another major nkisi who subdues bandoki, as well as bankuyu, is Kula. According to Laman, there are, apart from general medicines, among other things a hen’s foot, a hoof of an antelope, a claw of a giant lizard and parts of several venomous snakes. These represent the qualities of the animals in question, such as swiftness, pugnacity and ability to kill quickly. To Kula belong, also, small packets of medicines to be used as protection against bankuyu spirits. Among the Bwende, such medicines were previously sold in market places. The composition of Kula objects involves much work, which often takes place towards the evening, when bankuyu spirits become active. Nkisi Kula catch, kill or chase away bankuyu or bandoki during their

41 Butaye 1899: 310; Laman 1928: 21; van Wing 1959: 385; HagenbucherSacripanti 1973: 109; Mahaniah 1979: 241; Pambou 1979–80: 18 f.; Dalmalm 1985: 65. 42 Cf. Lagercrantz 1983/84: 88. 43 Mahaniah 1982: 39–46. See also Laman 1962: 70. 44 Laman 1928: 75 ﬀ.; Laman 1962: 78, 86 ﬀ.; Mahaniah 1982: 127 ﬀ.; MacGaﬀey 2000: 100.

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nocturnal journeys. Kula, who can be male or female, are the most common nkisi for treating illnesses caused by bankuyu and bandoki.45 Another very well-known major nkisi is Bunzi, who in some areas is called Lemba. There is a variety of aﬄictions that can be caused, and healed, by Bunzi. It can attack in the belly, chest, eyes and legs. When someone suﬀers from dyspnoea, stitch, chest pains or anxiety, it may be suspected that this nkisi has entered into the body of the suﬀerer. Swollen stomach, limbs or eyes as well as coughing trouble are characteristic problems brought by Bunzi.46 There are several variants of this nkisi. From the Yombe area, for instance, HagenbucherSacripanti reports that Bunzi may be the cause of rheumatism and arthritis. However, it also oﬀers protection against thieves and other evildoers. Bunzi, who is stronger than the majority of nkisi, is above all resorted to when somebody has had constant bad luck in his hunting or ﬁshing.47 Nakongo is one of the very oldest nkisi. According to Laman, he may be as magniﬁcent as Nkondi, give good luck and happiness; but his chief function is to aﬄict people with illness by way of revenge for crime, and to be invoked by the sick person. Nakongo gives people hernias, makes their limbs crooked, their bodies swollen and gives them scabs and blisters between toes and ﬁngers.48

The attacks may also be directed towards the chest and produce a stubborn cough. For instance, thieves and adulterers may be visited by Nakongo. As in the case of Bunzi, among others, there are several variants of nkisi Nakongo. One of these, Makongo Banga, causes madness and ignorance, while another, Makongo Mpanzu, seizes people by the side of the chest and ‘squeezes’ to produce a lethal cramp. Like Makongo Banga, Makongo na Mvangu occasions various kinds of insanity.49 Mbumba is a famous and feared nkisi who provokes, among other things, blood blisters, swollen and aching legs, severe diarrhoea and stomach cancer. Yet, like other nkisi, Mbumba is ambivalent and

45 Laman 1928: 81, 237 ﬀ.; Laman 1962: 78, 92 ﬀ.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 233 f. 46 Laman 1926: 215 f.; Laman 1962: 105 ﬀ., 113. 47 Laman 1962: 107 f. 48 Ibid., 144. 49 Ibid., 142–148; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 241.

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can, for instance, make women who have had fertility problems pregnant. Moreover, this nkisi protects against theft. For example, people who steal fruit from trees that are protected by Mbumba will immediately be attacked by this spiritual being.50 Another important agent of disease is the Nkita family. Dimomfu says that more than ﬁfty illnesses may be treated by healers who specialize in this family, although only a few of these aﬄictions are of particular signiﬁcance.51 Delivery problems and sterility, as well as boils and sores all over the body, are important categories of Nkita aﬄictions. Another such category is bodily malformations such as harelip and hunchback. Nkita may also be the name of small animals entering human bodies, causing swellings and aches.52 Like the Nkita nkisi, to whom they are related, the Kimpi nkisi can occasion a high number of maladies, including miscarriage and insanity.53 Another nkisi concerned with reproduction problems is Funza, who caused sterility, miscarriage and was the reason for malformed humans, animals, plants and inanimate things like stones. Laman observed, however, that already at his time this nkisi had fallen into oblivion.54 While some nkisi, like Funza, lost their signiﬁcance, others could become increasingly important, and new ones from other peoples were introduced. Particularly in urban areas, such as Léopoldville, even nkisi from far away, like West Africa, could be taken over and become worshipped by the Kongo.55 Since there are hundreds of more or less important nkisi among the Kongo, only some of them, and their role as agents of disease, can be presented here. Mvutudi and Mwanza belong to the type of nkisi that have the ‘shamanistic’ function of recapturing lost souls of human beings. Mbumba is an ancient, well-known and feared nkisi. Like most of the oldest nkisi, he is less specialized than the younger ones. Among other things, he causes stomach problems, tumours—

50

Laman 1928: 242 f.; Hagenbucher-Sacripanti 1973: 113 ﬀ.; Widman 1979:

188. 51

Dimomfu 1984: 48. According to Jacobson-Widding (1979: 201), it is the Nkita nkisi who transform themselves into little animals. Cf. Laman 1962: 132. 53 van Wing 1959: 411; Laman 1962: 132; Buakasa 1968: 158 ﬀ.; Buakasa 1973: 158 f., 169 ﬀ.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 201; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 88. 54 Laman 1962: 78. See also Hagenbucher-Sacripanti 1973: 134 f. 55 One important example, mentioned by van Wing (1959: 385 f.), is Muyeki. This strong nkisi protects its worshippers and makes them invulnerable to their enemies. 52

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including cancer—blood blisters, swollen and aching legs and severe diarrhoea. On the other hand, Mbumba gives fertility and may be used generally as a means of protection against the inﬂuence and evil deeds of dangerous spirits and bandoki. Mbola and several other spiritual beings belong to an nkisi family that is much feared because of the large malignant sores with which it aﬄicts its victims. As a beneﬁcent power, Mbola can discover bandoki, thieves and other criminals as well as hinder them in their activities.56 Nsakula is used mainly as a protective nkisi, which may be worn on the chest. There are many spirits in the Nsakula family, and they may occasion headache and aching hips or legs. Moreover, they can prevent, but also give, rain. According to Laman, Mayimbi is everywhere regarded as a great nkisi belonging to a family of ‘smashers’ (bankosi). In certain areas it consists chieﬂy of two large sculptures, man and wife, with small children (i.e., little sculptures), fashioned like human beings. If a village is ravaged by an epidemic, the Mayimbi spirits are invoked and sacriﬁces are made. Severe epidemics are provoked by the male Mayimbi, while the female one may occasion less serious epidemics. When the male Mayimbi attacks a village, he comes with great power, smashes down trees, palms and other things, and the ailments of the people are generally manifested in the chest. In some tracts, however, Mayimbi is a little nkisi in a shell that gives good luck, although it may also cause epilepsy.57 In the account above some answers to the question why nkisi cause diseases have been provided. A fundamental reason is their morally dual nature: they protect and heal, but they also destroy and bring aﬄictions. Each nkisi has this dual tendency and capacity. As they are spiritual beings, the intelligence and power of the nkisi are superior to those of humans. The anger of a nkisi can be roused because of the malice within the nkisi itself.58 In many cases nkisi spirits act as guardians of morals and react to crimes by sending aﬄictions. Breach of taboo rules associated with speciﬁc spirits is another important

Laman 1962: 78, 100 ﬀ., 119, 138. Ibid., 124. In addition to Laman, several other scholars have provided examples of Kongo nkisi and their capacity to cause aﬄictions. By and large, however, other examples show the same characteristics. For more details, see e.g. van Wing 1959: 388–418; Hagenbucher-Sacripanti 1973: 129–140; Buakasa 1973: 163–181; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 200–219; Widman 1979: 187–193. 58 Buakasa 1973: 17, 235; Janzen 1979: 210; Widman 1979: 194. 56 57

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reason for aﬄictions inﬂicted by them.59 A living human’s cult relationship to a speciﬁc spirit is often initiated when the spirit seeks an ‘owner’ by causing his or her illness. If it is a serious malady, the best way of becoming healed is to ﬁnd a nganga who can teach the patient how to put together the nkisi object. The patient then enters into the service of this particular nkisi spirit and can help others whom it may aﬄict.60 In principle, anybody can become a nganga, although the prescriptions and taboos connected with this profession deter most people. In practice, male banganga are more common than female ones. Yet the latter may be as powerful and inﬂuential as the former. In addition to the possibility of being recruited through illness, it is also possible to become a nganga after being an apprentice to a master nganga. Patrilateral succession (i.e., from father to son) is the most common mode of apprenticeship. A woman can become a nganga, for example, after being obliged to purchase a treatment for a sick child. She may then begin practising it on others. Occasionally, elderly or rich people become banganga for the sake of gaining personal honour. As a rule, the recruitment of a nganga entails diﬀerent modes, although illness and successful healing by a nkisi may be the most important means of embracing the profession.61 There are various kinds of banganga, and they tend to be highly specialized. The category that is of particular interest here is the nganga nkisi. The banganga who specialize in nkisi can be diﬀerentiated further, depending on which nkisi they serve. Hence they can be called nganga Lemba, nganga Kulu and so forth. Among other categories of banganga specialists, the nganga mbuki, herbalist or doctor, and nganga ngombo, diviner, may be mentioned.62 It should be remarked, however, that the distinction between these banganga and the nganga nkisi is not always clear in practice. It is interesting to note, also, that a Christian priest may be called nganga Nzambi (‘priest of God’). Since the banganga

59 van Wing 1959: 400; Pambou 1979–80: 21 f.; Dalmalm 1985: 77. Janzen (1979: 121) reports a case of somebody who was hit by aﬄiction because he had stepped on a malevolent nkisi, planted by a vengeful person out to destroy him. 60 Lagercrantz 1983/84: 68 f. The most powerful nkisi are also the most expensive (MacGaﬀey 2000: 112). 61 van Wing 1959: 421; Laman 1962: 72, 173, 175; Janzen 1978: 196 f.; JacobsonWidding 1979: 68, 145; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 75. 62 A few details about the former will be provided in the appendix. On Kongo divination, see e.g. Laman 1962: 173; Mahaniah 1973: 231; Janzen 1979: 210.

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may be concerned with a great variety of problems, not only regarding religion and healing but also, for instance, law and teaching, the term is diﬃcult or impossible to translate into English. When a term like healer is used, it should, therefore, be remembered that the art of nganga covers much more than issues of illness and healing.63 In 1910, the Jesuit missionary Sadin drew the conclusion that the banganga, whom he called féticheurs, had great authority.64 Their importance is evidenced also by the fact that Christian missionaries have regarded them as the major obstacle to the conversion of the Kongo people to Christianity. In his historical study Culture Confrontation in the Lower Congo, Axelson concludes that the banganga and their functions proved to be ‘the most vital and long-lived social institution’.65 An essential reason for the authority of the nganga is the special kindoki power and intelligence ‘of the night’, that is, of the world of spirits, that he or she has access to. Although it is possible for banganga to use this power in a destructive way, which allegedly does happen, they are generally expected to use it for constructive or healing purposes. Therefore, they are of great signiﬁcance in the struggle against the bandoki, who constantly try to harm other people.66 The ambivalent and extraordinary power of kindoki makes it possible for the banganga to perform similar feats to the bandoki. For example, some banganga may transform themselves into animals. A nganga Kula is able to see the bankuyu, attack and exorcize them when they have taken possession of somebody’s body. There are reports that some banganga perform miracles, predict future events or conjure up their nkisi spirits or dead humans (bakulu). Among other things, banganga may cut themselves in the tongue without showing any pain, although blood ﬂows; or, like San healers, they may dance through ﬁre, the ﬂames licking their bodies but causing them no harm.67 In many ways prophets (bangunza) in indigenous Christian churches in the Kongo area, such as the well-known Church of Jesus Christ on Earth by the Prophet Simon Kimbangu, are similar

63

According to van Wing (1959: 418), the word nganga means faiseur (maker, manufacturer). See further, e.g., Janzen 1978: 195; Widman 1979: 157 ﬀ.; Batukezanga 1981: 60. 64 Sadin 1910: 135. 65 Axelson 1970: 266. See also, e.g., Widman 1979: 157. 66 Buakasa 1973: 152; Hagenbucher-Sacripanti 1973: 144. The issue of kindoki and bandoki will be discussed in detail in chapter 8. 67 Laman 1962: 18, 175, 177, 181.

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to the banganga. For instance, like the latter, the prophets heal sick people, perform miracles and struggle against the bandoki. To some degree, thus, the bangunza may be said to have replaced the banganga. The most explicit diﬀerence between the former and the latter, it seems, is that the prophets charge no fees, although they may accept gifts, while the banganga normally charge fees for their services.68 When the banganga treat patients they use ‘religious’, ‘magical’ and ‘natural’ means. The medicines used are normally not the same as those found in the nkisi bag. In some cases the patient can only be healed by exorcizing an nkuyu spirit that has taken possession of him or her, while in other cases, as among the San, the soul (nsala) of the patient must be recaptured by the nganga.69 Normally the patient knows the nganga, and their relation to each other is not impersonal. Moreover, there is a large group of other people supporting the patient. Janzen uses the term ‘therapy managing group’. Selection of therapy, in co-operation with specialists, and assistance throughout the process of healing is largely the responsibility of kinspeople, although nowadays increasingly friends, job peers, coreligionists and neighbours of the patient substitute for them. Janzen’s material indicates that the previously pivotal role of the diviner, nganga ngombo, as chief diagnostician has largely been taken over by the therapy managing group.70 At the beginning of the period studied here, nkisi spirits constituted the main focus of cult activity among the Kongo. The cult of nkisi consists of, among other things, invocations, prayers, sacriﬁces and dancing. For instance, a nkisi may be asked to attack an enemy or to perform miracles. Prayers may also be said, and sacriﬁces made, in order to soften the wrath and destructive inclination of a nkisi. In addition to sacriﬁces of hens and other animals, there are oﬀerings of food, like maize, and beverages, such as palm wine. The most powerful nkisi may have special houses or shrines or can be placed on altars. Normally, however, the nkisi object is kept in the house of its owner. A nkisi becomes angry if it is not properly treated and provided with blood from game that has been killed, corn at harvest time and so forth. A nkisi may be inherited when the owner dies, 68 Laman 1962: 75; Bouquet 1969: 43; Dalmalm 1985: 92; MacGaﬀey 1986: 244. Cf. Janzen 1978: 155. 69 Laman 1962: 77; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 152. 70 Janzen 1978: 4, 131, 224 f., 229. See also, e.g., van Wing 1959: 237.

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but the new person may not use it until he or she has been dedicated and initiated by a nganga.71 Gradually, however, people have lost their belief and interest in the nkisi cult. In 1910, the Holy Ghost Father Marichelle concluded that he and other missionaries were doing their best to wipe out ‘fetishism’.72 Rapid Christianization, political transformations, the spread of biomedical practices and other factors of change during the period in focus here have led to a current situation where most of the old cults have been abandoned. In recent decades, the nkisi have almost disappeared as agents of disease. Many banganga, therefore, survive by reorienting some of their activities and, not least, because of the continuous—and even increased—problem of kindoki, which will be elaborated in chapters eight and nine.73 God the Creator Among the Kongo, as well as among several other neighbouring peoples, the name of the Supreme Being, or God the creator, is Nzambi. The etymology of this name is unknown, but it signiﬁes someone who is higher, stronger and more powerful than other beings. It also denotes something incomprehensible and mysterious or, in short, divine. As mentioned previously, the name Nzambi can be used not only when speaking about God but also with reference to the most important nkisi spirits, who are close to the Supreme Being. This is a way of honouring as well as inducing fear of them. Nkadi a Mpemba is a name that became used by Christians as a designation for the Devil. It refers to something cruel or evil, and it seems likely, as remarked by MacGaﬀey, that in pre-Christian thought Nkadi a Mpemba, the ruler of bandoki, would have been the bad side of Nzambi.74 Father Butaye reported in 1899 that everybody knew the Supreme Being and that he is the ultimate lord of life and death.75 In the 71 Laman 1962: 71, 80; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 131; Widman 1979: 197 f.; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 83. 72 Marichelle 1910: 238. 73 Janzen 1978: 147; Janzen 1979: 211; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 70; Dalmalm 1985: 91, 172, 202 f. 74 MacGaﬀey 1986: 108. See further Laman 1917: 288, 292 ﬀ.; Vansina 1975: 672; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 349 f.; Widman 1979: 81 ﬀ. Cf. Proyart 1819: 143. 75 Butaye 1899: 309.

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Kongo area, as in other parts of Africa, God is associated with the heavenly realm. Nzambi is the creator of heaven but also of the earth and its beings.76 Considering the long history of Christian inﬂuence in the Kongo area, it is particularly diﬃcult to depict the pre-Christian ideas and attributes of God. However, the following is an attempt to render some of the main characteristics of Nzambi. Although the Supreme Being is sexless, or may have both male and female personae, he is often referred to as ‘male’.77 Some authors have strongly stressed the morally positive qualities of the Supreme Being, such as goodness and righteousness, as well as superior characteristics like omnipresence, omniscience and omnipotence. In order to stress that God is the greatest, highest and most powerful, attributes like Mpungu may be added to the name Nzambi.78 Widman accentuates not only the unique greatness of God but states also that Nzambi is actively involved in the lives of human beings. In other words, Widman argues against the common idea of Nzambi as a deus otiosus. The Supreme Being is not only a symbol of justice who has provided laws but also punishes those humans who break these laws.79 However, in Widman’s theologically oriented work, the uniqueness and active role of Nzambi are exaggerated. As pointed out by, among others, Widman’s compatriots Laman and Dalmalm, the character of Nzambi is essentially ambivalent, although the emergence of Nkadi a Mpemba reﬂects a dualistic tendency that has been strengthened by Christian inﬂuence.80 Jacobson-Widding, another compatriot of Widman, concludes that, although concerned with justice, Nzambi does not execute judgements.81 As shown above, ancestors and nkisi spirits have a role as guardians of morals. For Christian Kongo people, however, God has largely taken over this role.82 As in the Sukuma religion, the Supreme Being is not a major agent of disease. However, illnesses resulting from old age and incurable maladies can be caused by Nzambi.83 Paradoxically, the expression 76

Laman 1917: 271; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 337; Widman 1979: 67. Widman 1979: 58; MacGaﬀey 1986: 79. 78 See, e.g., Sadin 1910: 131; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 345 ﬀ.; Widman 1979: 53, 57, 74, 76. The name Nzambi Mpungu is used by several other Bantu peoples too. 79 Widman 1979: 62 f. See also, e.g., van Wing 1959: 302 ﬀ. 80 Laman 1917: 273; Dalmalm 1985: 66 f. 81 Jacobson-Widding 1979: 347. 82 See also Dalmalm 1985: 175. 83 van Wing 1959: 231; Mahaniah 1982: 82. 77

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‘illness of God’ (kimbevo kia Nzambi) may refer to benign aﬄictions with brief duration. Yet such aﬄictions have natural causes and do not involve spiritual beings in the treatment process. Nor do they concern problems of social relations.84 There are various versions of the myth that death was caused by disobedience, usually of a woman. Also, before human beings disobeyed God, heaven could be reached by them.85 When somebody dies, it may be said that Nzambi took him or her. Deaths caused by him are usually ‘natural’ deaths of old people. If God has decided to end somebody’s life, nobody can do anything about it. He can ‘eat’ the soul of a human being.86 In general, unexplained events calling for no speciﬁc action can be attributed to him.87 Since Nzambi is not very actively involved in the lives of human beings, his cult is quite limited. Some older works indicate that there was no cult at all, neither public nor private.88 In general, the belief in and cult of God is seldom mentioned in the old material of missionaries. This may reﬂect a theology of discontinuity. As remarked by MacGaﬀey, ‘the statement, often made, that there was no cult of Nzambi is not entirely true’, although there are no special priests and sacred objects of God in the indigenous Kongo religion.89 Widman exaggerates the occurrence of prayers and sacriﬁces to Nzambi,90 but as a force in human aﬀairs he may serve as a last resort. When all else fails, prayers can be addressed to him. Nzambi is universal, and his cult, if thin and residual, is also universal. His only special responsibility is death itself, ‘the eventual goal of all careers, the universal merging of all particularities’.91 It should be noted, however, that while the importance of ancestors and nkisi spirits gradually decreased during the period studied here, the signiﬁcance of Nzambi instead tended to increase.92

84 Buakasa 1973: 148; Janzen 1978: 8; Dalmalm 1985: 77. Concerning the illness category kimbevo kia Nzambi, see further the appendix. 85 For details, see Widman 1979: 71 ﬀ. See also, e.g., Laman 1917: 291 f.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 338. 86 Laman 1917: 281. See further Butaye 1899: 309; Laman 1917: 274, 283; van Wing 1959: 252; Buakasa 1973: 148; Widman 1979: 69 f. 87 MacGaﬀey 1986: 78. 88 See, e.g., Sadin 1910: 131; Laman 1917: 272; Boucher 1918: 143. 89 MacGaﬀey 1986: 78. See also Widman 1979: 133. 90 Widman 1979: 77 ﬀ. 91 MacGaﬀey 1986: 78 f. Cf. Widman 1979: 87. 92 MacGaﬀey 1986: 102.

CHAPTER SIX

YORUBA DIVINITIES The extraordinary richness of Yoruba religion lies in the profusion of its orisa, in the facility with which in the past an orisa has formed and gathered about itself a cult-group.1 In practice, as far as my observations go, people do not pay much attention to their Orisas except in times of misfortune and sickness.2

Introduction Of all the religions studied here, Yoruba religion is the most complex. There are, in addition to the hundreds of divinities, orisha, in the pantheon, ancestors and other spirits, traditions of sacred kingship, belief in reincarnation and, in the cultic domain, various priesthoods, elaborate rituals and festivals as well as sacred places and buildings. For a long time this exceedingly rich and varied religion has evoked interest among a great number of scholars in religious studies, anthropology and several other disciplines. In works by Nigerian scholars of religion the inﬂuence of E.B. Idowu is often clearly discernible. According to Idowu (1963), his disciple J.O. Awolalu (1979) and some others, the several hundreds of divinities, orisha, in the Yoruba pantheon are intermediaries between God and humans. Hence God is the ruler, and the divinities are his ministers or servants. Each of them is governor of a certain department and constantly controlled by God.3 An inﬂuential anthropological model of Yoruba religion has been presented by Peter Morton-Williams (1964). Based on material from the Oyo area, he produced a threefold model of what he called the ‘Yoruba cosmology’. In this model, particularly the ‘male’ God,

1 2 3

McKenzie 1976: 197. Prince 1964: 95. Idowu 1963: 61 f.

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Olorun, and the divinities are associated with the heavenly realm, while the ‘female’ earth goddess, Onile, and some spirits have their domain in the earth. Assisted by deities, God created the world, the middle zone, where human beings live and are inﬂuenced by spiritual beings that pass freely between diﬀerent zones. According to Morton-Williams, thus, the Oyo Yoruba cosmos is made up of heaven and earth enfolding an island-like world.4 Morton-Williams referred to certain oral texts such as myths and praise songs as evidence for his ‘new model of the Yoruba cosmos’.5 As remarked by several scholars, however, there is no evidence to show that this abstracted model is a shared cosmology.6 Diﬀerent cult groups have diﬀerent ‘cosmologies’ or ‘theologies’, and the Oyo representation rendered by Morton-Williams is not found in the same form among other Yoruba-speaking peoples. There is among the Yoruba much variability between groups and individuals as well as between regions or towns.7 E.T. Lawson, for example, writes about two parts of the cosmos, heaven and earth, rather than three, but fails to specify which Yoruba peoples he refers to.8 In his unduly generalized scheme, the earth is the abode of human beings, animals and people who indulge in practices of witchery. The earth goddess is not included in this model. Although the role of this deity undoubtedly varies a great deal, Morton-Williams is probably right in criticizing several scholars of religion for underestimating her importance in Yoruba religion. That does not necessarily mean, however, that the hierarchic model of Idowu, Awolalu, Lawson and others is inadequate. It certainly appears to be inﬂuenced by Christian theology and thinking.9 Yet it is interesting to note, for instance, that several of the CMS missionaries, who did not champion a theology of continuity, in the late nineteenth century reported that people conceived of the divinities as servants of God.10 About 150 years ago, when Crowther prepared his Abeokuta mission, he was informed by orisha worshippers in Freetown that the deities were inferior beings who were commis-

4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Morton-Williams 1964: 244 ﬀ. Ibid., 243. E.g., McKenzie 1976: 198 f.; Hallgren 1988: 12. Bascom 1969: 97; Eades 1980: 118; Buckley 1985b: 187. Lawson 1984: 57. Cf. Eades 1980: 121. Westerlund 1985: 34, 44–60. E.g., Crowther 1892: 10; Johnson 1899: 45.

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sioned by God to superintend various matters on earth.11 His theology of discontinuity was clearly reﬂected in his views on the powerlessness and ‘vanity’ of the deities of the ‘heathens’.12 Hence the hierarchic model of Yoruba religion, which corresponds to the hierarchic political and social system, has been presented by many authors with diﬀerent biases and must, therefore, be considered well documented.13 In general, the possible inﬂuence of Christianity and Islam on Yoruba religion should not be forgotten. It is often diﬃcult to draw a dividing line between indigenous Yoruba and Christian or Muslim beliefs and practices; and the Yoruba have a long-standing tradition of co-operation and ‘sharing’ across religious borders in, for example, religiously mixed families. In the case of the ‘heathen’ informants of CMS missionaries in the nineteenth century, however, it is very unlikely that there was any considerable Christian or Muslim inﬂuence. A problem with the hierarchic model, as with the triangular model of Morton-Williams, is that it is too static and tends to make Yoruba religion appear more systematic and coherent than it is.14 Although there are certain regularities in the diversity, it must be remembered that ‘Yoruba religion, no less than the rest of Yoruba life, is a ﬁeld for discussion and debate, and not at all one for dogmatic unanimity’.15 J.S. Eades is probably right in concluding that Yoruba religion is less concerned with ‘a systematic and logically coherent set of beliefs’ than ‘with the problems of the individual in this world’.16 Like Sukuma and Kongo, Yoruba usually explain serious and protracted illnesses by referring to suprahuman or human causes.17 God, ancestors and other spirits may be referred to as agents of disease. However, the most important of the spiritual causes of disease are the divinities. Thus it is the latter category of spiritual beings that will be in particular focus in this chapter.

11

Crowther 1892: 10. Ibid., 28. 13 Some early writers compared the orisha to the saints of Christianity (Verger 1966: 27 f.). See further, e.g., Johnson 1921: 26; Awolalu 1970: 24; Dopamu 1977: 101; Simpson 1980: 2; Larsen 1983: 25 ﬀ.; Olukoju 1997: 1. 14 This criticism is applicable, also, to the generalization of Beier (1980: xi), who claims that the deities are ‘aspects or facets of the same divine force’ rather than subordinated messengers of God. 15 Buckley 1985b: 187. 16 Eades 1980: 128. 17 E.g., Dopamu 1977: 392; Ayoade 1979: 49; Osunwole 1989: 10 f. 12

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Among the several Yoruba names for God the most important ones seem to be Olodumare and Olorun. There is some uncertainty regarding the meaning of the word Olodumare, although it is often translated ‘Almighty’.18 In Idowu’s classical study of Olodumare, this name is said to indicate that God is the head or lord of all in heaven and on earth, absolutely unique and beyond comparison.19 The name Olorun, which owes much of its popularity to Christian and Muslim inﬂuence, is a more common name for God. Yoruba Christians and Muslims have adopted this name, which can be translated ‘owner (or lord) of heaven’.20 The attributes of Olorun are similar to the attributes associated with God among the other peoples studied here. In general, it seems that there are more diﬀerences concerning the extent to which God is the object of (direct) cult in diﬀerent African religions than in terms of ideas about his nature. Hence God is thought of as creator, the Supreme Being who is immortal and unchanging. Particularly scholars who are inﬂuenced by a Christian theology of continuity have couched Yoruba conceptions of God in terms like omnipotence, omniscience and omnipresence,21 but such concepts may also be found in earlier and theologically more conservative works.22 Apparently, there is some Christian as well as Muslim inﬂuence on current Yoruba concepts of God, although it is diﬃcult or impossible to establish to what extent and in what way this inﬂuence may have altered older ideas of God.23 Concerning the cult of God there may also be some Christian and Muslim inﬂuence. Early sources indicate that God was not worshipped directly, even though he could be thought of as the ultimate receiver of sacriﬁces and prayers.24 According to Farrow, God is too exalted to be approached with the familiarity shown towards the divinities and too high and distant to be oﬀered sacriﬁces and Table n.d.b.: 1; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 37 ﬀ. Idowu 1963: 36. 20 Parrat 1974: 6; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 39. 21 Idowu 1963: 40 f.; Awolalu 1979: 14 f.; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 49 f. 22 E.g., Farrow 1926: 27 f. Dennett (1910 [1968]: 67, 72), whom Farrow (1926: 5) criticized for having an ‘anti-Christian bias’ and lack of knowledge of the Yoruba language, held that at the time when he published his book (1910), ideas about Olorun had already changed. 23 Cf. Verger 1966: 40. 24 E.g., Lakaumi 1885; Johnson 1921: 26. Cf. Table n.d.b.: 2 f. 18 19

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prayers.25 Apparently, there is still often little or no direct cult of God.26 Yet there is evidence that, at least partly because of Christian and Muslim inﬂuence, even adherents of the ‘traditional’ religion now turn directly to God more frequently than previously, although the direct cult of God may have been exaggerated by some scholars.27 In criticism of other scholars, Idowu strongly emphasizes that moral sanctions are not vested solely in other beings than God and holds that God is the real source and norm of the moral values of Yoruba religion.28 According to Awolalu, God punishes human beings for evil deeds and rewards them for good deeds.29 Similarly, another Nigerian scholar of religion, O. Olukunle, argues that illnesses and other types of misfortune can be sent by God as punishment for wrong conduct and that even a child may have to pay for the ‘sins’ of its parents.30 However, the idea of disease as a punishment for moral wrongdoing must not be exaggerated. Only rarely, it seems, is illness interpreted as a result of direct intervention by God himself. Without indicating any reasons why God may cause aﬄictions, J.A. Ayoade reports that a disease from God ‘is identiﬁed by its persistence, resistance to time-hallowed medication, and its ultimate incurability’.31 The idea that there is no antidote for a sickness or other misfortune, like barrenness, that is occasioned by God is also stressed by N.H. Wolﬀ.32 Accidental deaths or deaths of young people may be caused by God, although that is only one of several possible explanations.33 In a sense, even ‘natural’ diseases may be thought of as diseases from God. When aﬄictions are explained by references to germs in the body of the sick person, the germs are not conceived of as invasions from outside the body but rather as substances placed by God within the body from birth.34 In that perspective, diseases and death are, like health and life, ultimately from God.35

25

Farrow 1926: 30. Morton-Williams 1964: 246; Bascom 1969: 79; Lawson 1984: 57. 27 E.g., Idowu 1963: 142 f.; Awolalu 1979: 16 f.; Comstock 1979: 10 f. 28 Idowu 1963: 151, 154. 29 Awolalu 1979: 15. 30 Olukunle 1979: 124 ﬀ. 31 Ayoade 1979: 49. 32 Wolﬀ 1979: 130. 33 Table n.d.b.: 154 f. 34 Buckley 1985a: 33. 35 The signiﬁcance of bodily germs as causes of disease has been stressed—and probably exaggerated—by Buckley (1985a). See further the appendix. 26

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The ‘earth-owner’, Onile, is a goddess or spirit of great importance because she provides the crops, and her cult is very widespread.36 Onile, or simply Ile (the personiﬁed earth), receives special sacriﬁces at the time of planting and harvesting, and as a conceptual counterpart of God the Father, she may be addressed as ‘Mother’. While Morton-Williams refers to Onile as the ‘Earth Goddess’ and says that she is asserted by those Yoruba who worship her to be coeval with God and, thus, to have existed before the other divinities, orisha,37 other scholars refer to this being as a particularly important spirit of nature.38 The problem of the status of Onile need not be discussed in detail here. As concluded by Hallgren, however, it is questionable if Morton-Williams’s picture of a divine polarization, heaven/earth and male/female, is common in Yoruba religion.39 More important in this context is the observation that Onile is of little or no signiﬁcance as an agent of disease. She is a spiritual being who is associated with health, fertility and life rather than with illness and death. In this respect Onile diﬀers from several of the divinities who are important agents of disease, barrenness and death. All deities can cause illness and other kinds of misfortune, but some of them are much more feared than others, while certain divinities are hardly ever associated with disease and death. Before the role of speciﬁc deities is studied, however, some general observations should be made. In many works on Yoruba religion and culture, speciﬁc numbers of the orisha have been presented. Such numbers may vary from a few hundred to more than one thousand, although four hundred and one seems to be the most commonly accepted sum.40 The last number of this sum (i.e., 401) is a reference to the sacred ruler. As remarked by Idowu, the numbers should be regarded primarily as symbols of the plurality and indeﬁniteness of the divinities. In practice, there are great diﬀerences between regions, groups and individuals in terms of how many and which deities are worshipped. 36

Ojo 1966: 168; Adeniyi 1984: 63. Morton-Williams 1964: 245 f. Cf. Bascom 1969a: 92. 38 E.g., Awolalu 1979: 45; Adeniyi 1984: 63. 39 According to Hallgren (1988: 66), ‘it seems more likely to be an esoteric and philosophical vision’. 40 E.g., Morton-Williams 1964: 246; Wolﬀ 1979: 131; Simpson 1980: 1. 37

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The divinities have links with nature and natural forces, that is, with hills, rivers, winds and so on, but also with the human sphere. They are associated with historical events as well as with cultural and economic activities. Many divinities are also patrons of towns. Like town deities—and unlike ancestors—deiﬁed human beings are tied to localities rather than to descent groups.41 Most of the divinities are worshipped locally, but the most important ones are known and worshipped virtually all over Yorubaland. ‘The principal orisa are each the head of a hierarchy of lesser (usually more localized or specialized) orisa, much as both high oﬃcers of state and also vassal kings head hierarchies of lesser oﬃcials.’42 As indicated by this quotation, the parallels between the orisha hierarchies and the indigenous Yoruba political system are obvious and have been stressed by other scholars too.43 Physical and psychiatric aﬄictions, as well as barrenness and death, can be occasioned by deities.44 For instance, some divinities are important in that they cause and control epidemics.45 The role of the deities as agents of disease is one of the reasons why human beings enter into a cultic relationship with them. Important deities have their own priesthoods, which are organized into hierarchies of ranked oﬃces. Temples or shrines are erected for the worship of such deities, and the priests serve as mediators between the human and suprahuman worlds. People may also maintain one room in their houses in honour of one or more divinities, who may be worshipped individually at home. Locality, profession and descent are factors that determine which deities are worshipped, but worship is also based on individual choice. Sacriﬁces range from simple libations to those that involve the killing of big animals. Prevention and recovery from illness as well as protection from death are some important motives for sacriﬁces. The head of the sacriﬁcial animal may touch a patient’s head and chest, while prayers are oﬀered that the disease will pass from the aﬄicted person to the animal. Such petitions, and petitions for material blessings, are important elements

41 E.g., Ojo 1966: 159 ﬀ.; McKenzie 1976: 197; Lawson 1984: 63, 66. See also Dennett 1910 (1968): 71; Lucas 1948: 119; Eades 1980: 119. 42 Morton-Williams 1964: 245. 43 E.g., Idowu 1963: 48 f.; Eades 1980: 119. 44 Table n.d.b.: 3, 7, 155; Prince 1964: 95; Wolﬀ 1979: 129. 45 Morton-Williams 1964: 251; Awolalu 1970: 31.

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of Yoruba prayers. The most elaborate type of rituals are the annual orisha festivals, which may involve a large proportion of the population of a town as well as cult members from elsewhere. At such occasions possession and trance phenomena are common. Music, particularly in the form of drumming, and dancing are important elements in festivals, and diﬀerent deities have various rhythms. In the state of trance and possession, the deities use the possessed worshippers as media of communication. Pierre Verger compares the festivals to theatrical performances or operettas, but with the ‘actors’ in a state of trance.46 The most signiﬁcant and dreadful disease agent among Yoruba divinities is Shopona. Yet, like other deities, Shopona is not exclusively evil and destructive. Rather, he is ambiguous and gives fertility and life as well as diseases and death.47 A myth tells that Shopona sprang from the body of Yemoja, the female deity of the Ogun river.48 R.E. Dennett reported another tradition, which stated that Shopona was a very wicked boy who once, after beating several of his townspeople to death, was taken by his parents to a doctor who taught him the use of bad and poisonous drugs.49 With these he then killed even more of his fellow citizens. After his death he was deiﬁed, and people started worshipping him. The earth is his element, and he is sometimes referred to as the king of the earth.50 Shopona and his entourage of minor spiritual beings are associated with smallpox and insanity.51 Smallpox is usually referred to simply by this name, Shopona, but it may also be called ‘hot earth’ (Ileegbono).52 Here the term ‘smallpox’ includes a much wider range of diseases than is included in this concept as used in a western context. The diseases caused by the Shopona family include many fevers 46 Verger 1969: 64. For documentation and more detailed information on the cult of Yoruba divinities, see Johnson 1899: 38 f.; Farrow 1926: 105; Lucas 1948: 177; Morton-Williams 1960: 34; Idowu 1963: 116, 129–139; Verger 1963; MortonWilliams 1964: 251 f.; Prince 1964: 95; Verger 1969; Prince 1979: 117 f.; Eades 1980: 120; Simpson 1980: 64 ﬀ.; Lawson 1984: 55; Hallgren 1988: 58 ﬀ.; Olukoju 1997: 9 ﬀ. 47 Maclean 1971: 38; Buckley 1985a: 133. 48 Lucas 1948: 112; Ajose 1957: 270. 49 Dennett 1910: 231. 50 Simpson 1980: 37; Larsen 1983: 27. 51 E.g., Leighton et al. 1964: 116; Buckley 1985a: 98. The name Shopona may be used as a generic name for the family of smallpox deities or spirits (Prince 1964: 105). 52 Buckley 1985a: 99.

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(particularly with delirium), rashes, carbuncles, boils and psychoses. In addition to psychoses, other psychiatric disturbances can also be caused by Shopona. Apparently, several diﬀerent kinds of serious or fatal illnesses, as well as famine, may be associated with Shopona. Occasionally, even less serious ailments such as chickenpox can be attributed to this deity. Some Yoruba believe that if other deities are oﬀended, they send Shopona to punish the oﬀenders.53 Since Shopona disﬁgures and slays people, or makes them insane, he is much feared. Because of the fear, people avoid using his real name. Instead, names such as ‘Father’ and ‘Lord’ may be utilized. Similarly, people frequently use euphemisms when describing the aﬄictions caused by Shopona.54 He is depicted as a short-tempered, cruel and irascible divinity.55 Shopona is such a dangerous deity that he must be kept away from the towns. Of all Yoruba divinities, he seems to be the only one who is hardly ever worshipped in towns.56 He is associated with the forest, and that is also where his sanctuaries have been erected.57 Since the worship of Shopona was forbidden by the British colonial regime, it became diﬃcult to build shrines to him and worship openly. More or less secretly, however, some cult of the deity continued in Nigeria, and some worshippers also went to Benin (Dahomey) to perform the annual festival as well as some lesser rituals. Probably, there are still some sanctuaries in Nigerian forests, and some people may have small shrines in their houses.58 About three decades ago, Prince even concluded that Shopona was ‘still very active in many parts of Yorubaland’.59 The reason why the cult of Shopona was outlawed by the British regime was that his priests were accused of deliberately spreading smallpox and enriching themselves from the property of the victims.60 Allegedly, the priests disseminated the smallpox infection by means of liquids or dried scabs.61 According to the reports by, among others,

53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61

Prince 1964: 95, 105; Maclean 1971: 38; Buckley 1985a: 99, 131 f. Bascom 1969a: 92; Lucas & Hendrickse 1971: 35; Larsen 1983: 28. Simpson 1980: 37. Buckley 1985a: 130. Farrow 1926: 57; Lucas 1948: 113; Bascom 1969a: 92. Lucas 1948: 112; Maclean 1971: 39; Simpson 1980: 40. Prince 1964: 105. Farrow 1926: 57; Ajose 1957: 270. Maclean 1966: 132; Bascom 1969a: 91.

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Dennett and Lucas, the priests had the following materials which they used in spreading the disease:62 – a calabash containing some portion of the corpse of a smallpox victim – a pot with black liquid collected from the corpse of the victim or made up of water with which the victim’s rashes had been washed – a vessel of black powder compounded with dried scabs. The liquid or the powder was, allegedly, thrown during night time by the Shopona priests in front of the houses of the targeted victims. Naturally, the priests denied the charges levelled against them and claimed that the purpose of the Shopona cult is to prevent the spread of smallpox and to aid in the recovery of those suﬀering from the disease.63 Yet burials of Shopona victims are performed secretly, and without normal funeral rites, by the priests. Such burials take place in the forest or bush.64 Like Shopona himself, his victims belong to the wilderness, where they are isolated from healthy people and treated by the priests. Various myths and taboos inculcate the importance of isolation, disinfection and other preventative measures. The treatment also includes sacriﬁces to Shopona. When suﬀerers die, their belongings may be handed over to the priests as fees for the treatment.65 During a smallpox epidemic, people avoid festivities with dancing and drumming, probably because of fear that such activities would attract Shopona into the town.66 When the annual ceremonies for Shopona take place, worshippers sing, dance and beat the drum for several days. At such occasions, moreover, oﬀerings of food as well as sacriﬁces of animals are made, and prayers are addressed to Shopona. In such prayers, for instance, the divinity is asked to prevent the death of children, wives and husbands until the next annual ceremony and to give children to those who are infertile. Worshippers may promise sacriﬁces should their prayers be answered.67

62

Dennett 1910: 231 f.; Lucas 1948: 113. Bascom 1969a: 91. 64 Idowu 1963: 98; Bascom 1969a: 91; Buckley 1985a: 103. At least formerly, Shopona victims were buried at the shrines of the deity (Maclean 1971: 39). 65 Ajose 1957: 270 f.; Prince 1964: 96. 66 Bascom 1969a: 92; Buckley 1985b: 195 f. Cf. Idowu 1963: 98. 67 Simpson 1980: 40 f. 63

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Like the cult of other deities, the cult of Shopona diﬀers a great deal from one place to another. Even in a single town there may be several quite distinct cults of this divinity.68 Among other things, various cult groups may observe distinctive taboos.69 However, certain taboos seem to be of particular signiﬁcance. There are strong taboos against benniseed (sesame) and palm-kernel oil. Benniseed is one of Nigeria’s commercial exports, but little, if any, is grown by the Yoruba.70 Palm-kernel oil is oﬀered to Shopona only in deliberate attempts to antagonize him.71 People who break his taboos and oﬀend him are punished by the ruthless divinity, and his wrath may even aﬀect innocent people.72 According to Idowu, Shopona holds absolute sway over the earth, and his will must be accepted.73 When the deity possesses a worshipper, he is oﬀended by people who whistle and laugh.74 ‘The wind is what aﬄicts people with smallpox, and sounds such as whistling and whispering, which remind men of the wind, are believed to be dangerous when Sonponno(!) is abroad.’75 The deity works like a whirlwind and can attack anyone.76 Hence he can victimize initiated as well as uninitiated persons. Some people have Shopona in their lineage and if they neglect some ritual, they may be taken ill.77 When others, who do not have Shopona as a lineage deity, become victims of this agent of disease, they are not necessarily initiated into the Shopona cult as part of their treatments. R. Prince’s material, which concerns psychiatric aﬄictions, in particular, indicates that it is only after there have been several recurrences of an illness caused by Shopona that the babalawo ( priest, diviner) recommends initiation into the cult of the divinity.78 Orunmila, or Ifa, is a deity who diﬀers very much from Shopona. Ifa is everything that Shopona is not, a quiet, peaceful god, concerned with maintaining the culture, health and well-being of the

68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78

Buckley 1985a: 98 f. Ibid., 187. Bascom 1969a: 91 f. Buckley 1985a: 108. Bascom 1969a: 91. Idowu 1963: 95, 97. Bascom 1969a: 91. Buckley 1985a: 112. Leighton et al. 1963: 104. Lucas 1948: 112; Simpson 1964: 96; Maclean 1966: 139. Prince 1964: 105. This observation apples to other orisha cults as well.

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town and its inhabitants. Yet, at times, he transforms himself into a vicious and vindictive god with properties precisely analogous to those of Shopona.79 Like this deity and other orisha, thus, Orunmila is ambivalent or ambiguous and may cause disease and other types of misfortune, although he is more concerned with health than disease—hence a healer rather than an agent of illness.80 First and foremost, Orunmila is a deity of divination, but he is also a great source or promoter of fecundity, prosperity and health.81 He is worshipped in all parts of Yorubaland and is one of the most important divinities.82 Awolalu believes that there is an Orunmila shrine in almost every ‘traditional home’.83 As a deity of divination, he has great wisdom and power. People may consult him on virtually all occasions when they are in trouble and before important actions are taken.84 According to Bascom,85 the divination system known as Ifa provides the most direct access to God apart from prayer. Through Ifa, the intentions of other orisha can be revealed too.86 In the very complicated system of Ifa divination, palm nuts from a special palm tree and stories or verses are used.87 The verses include incantations, which are of vital signiﬁcance in Yoruba medicine. A minor but important part of medicines used to cure illnesses contain such incantations. The hidden knowledge of a medical incantation reveals the power of the ingredients utilized in a speciﬁc medicine. The incantation shows how the visible or known qualities of medicinal ingredients are useful in relation to a special problem.88 Through Ifa divination, thus, the diviner or priest of Orunmila, babalawo (father of secret things), who must learn a vast number of verses by heart, reveals important secrets and mediates between human and divine. The knowledge of Ifa divination stems from 79

Buckley 1985a: 133. Ibid., 128 ﬀ.; Simpson 1980: 7. 81 Farrow 1926: 40; Idowu 1963: 78; Hallgren 1988: 30. 82 Idowu 1963: 76; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 80. 83 Awolalu 1979: 23 f. 84 Bascom 1969a: 80; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 80; Simpson 1980: 7. 85 Bascom 1969a: 80. 86 Morton-Williams 1964: 248. 87 There are many studies of Ifa divination available. For two classical works, see Bascom 1969b and Abimbola 1976. Brief introductions can be found in, e.g., Johnson 1899: 19 ﬀ.; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 147 f.; Simpson 1980: 73 f.; and Lawson 1984: 67 ﬀ. For some details on the palm tree of Ifa, see Buckley 1985a: 113 ﬀ. 88 Bascom 1969b: 61; Buckley 1985a: 98, 140, 144. 80

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Orunmila himself, and the babalawo transmits and interprets the wishes of God and orisha to humankind and prescribes sacriﬁces.89 The determination of the correct sacriﬁce is necessary to secure a favourable resolution of the disease or other problem confronting a client. A sacriﬁce of some kind is almost always a part of the proscribed actions after divination.90 Closely associated with Orunmila is Eshu, a divine trickster. According to Morton-Williams’s account,91 God has sent Orunmila and Eshu into the world as ‘a pair of divine mediators’. E.B. Idowu refers to Eshu as the right-hand divinity of Orunmila,92 and Bascom uses the term ‘trinity’ when he writes about these deities and God.93 Eshu is an important extension of God’s power, a divine messenger, and some traditions tell that he was the one who taught Orunmila the secrets of divination. A small part of each sacriﬁce prescribed through Ifa divination is set aside for him to ensure that he will carry the rest to God, for whom most sacriﬁces are destined. Such sacriﬁces are deposited at the shrines of Eshu. Sacriﬁces to the orisha are made at their own shrines, but again something is set aside for Eshu, so that he will not cause the client trouble.94 Eshu is one of the most powerful deities, and, since he serves God and the orisha by troubling people who oﬀend or neglect them, all kinds of diseases and other evils may be associated with him.95 The idea of Eshu as a servant of God is stressed strongly by, among others, E.O. Olukoje.96 However, whereas Orunmila may be referred to as a being of light and revelation, designations such as ‘the being of darkness’ and ‘the anger of the divinities’ refer to Eshu. He is regarded as a spiritual being who magniﬁes petty misdeeds into dire oﬀences.97 Terms like dreadful, malicious and unpredictable point to the evil and dangerous traits of his character, and in their prayers

89

Bascom 1969a: 80; Lawson 1984: 68; Buckley 1985a: 112, 130. Bascom 1969b: 60; Lawson 1984: 69. The favourite sacriﬁcial animal of Orunmila is a she-goat (Bascom 1969b: 65). For more information on the types of sacriﬁces that are performed in the cult of Orunmila, see Simpson 1980: 9 ﬀ. 91 Morton-Williams 1964: 248. 92 Idowu 1963: 80. 93 Bascom 1969a: 80. 94 Dennett 1910: 78, 94 ﬀ.; Bascom 1969b: 60, 65; Olukoje 1997: 1 ﬀ. Cf. Lawson 1984: 60 f. 95 Bascom 1969a: 79; Simpson 1980: 17. 96 Olukoje 1997: 3. 97 Dennett 1910: 95; Morton-Williams 1964: 248. 90

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people often ask him not to trouble them with illnesses and other problems.98 They may also pray to God for protection against the anger of Eshu. Like other divinities, Eshu has his own worshippers and priests, even though all worshippers must pay attention to him; and, in the annual ceremonies, rituals of protection from evil are a central theme.99 With reference to the evil and destructive aspects of Eshu’s character, Christian Yoruba have compared him to Satan or the Devil. However, that comparison is not adequate because Eshu is not an entirely evil being. A trickster, he has evil and good qualities. Hence he is, for instance, a creative bringer of health as well as an agent of disease. His ambiguous or elusive character is reﬂected in the many names, such as punisher and rewarder, that are used to portray him.100 Another important deity who may act in a destructive way, although he has creative properties too, is Shango, the divinity who controls lightning and thunder. According to some traditions, he is the brother of Shopona.101 Like the latter, Shango is a powerful and dangerous deity. Although the cult of him is widespread, it is of special signiﬁcance in the Oyo Yoruba area, where he was once a king before his ascendance to heaven.102 Ifa divination may indicate that a sick person should undergo initiation into the Shango cult for cure; and worshippers pray and sacriﬁce to him to protect themselves from illness and death.103 Unlike Shopona, however, he has little to do with sickness. As the deity of lightning, he causes injuries and deaths rather than speciﬁc diseases.104 With his ‘thunderstones’ he harms or kills people and destroys their houses.105 While Shopona priests have been accused of spreading smallpox, Shango priests have been believed to have the power to direct lightning. When lightning has struck, and people have died as a result,

98

Idowu 1963: 81; Bascom 1969a: 79. Bascom 1969a: 79; Simpson 1980: 19. 100 Idowu 1963: 80, 83, 85; Lawson 1984: 60 f.; Hallgren 1988: 30 f., 33. See also Dennett 1910: 78; Bascom 1969a: 79; and Olukoje 1997: 5 ﬀ. 101 Bascom 1969a: 91; Isola 1977: 120; Larsen 1983: 28. 102 Idowu 1963: 90 f.; Morton-Williams 1964: 255; Simpson 1980: 20. Cf. Farrow 1926: 47. 103 Simpson 1980: 25 f. 104 Morton-Williams 1960: 35; Buckley 1985a: 139. 105 Bascom 1969a: 84; Lucas & Hendrickse 1971: 35; Simpson 1980: 20. 99

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Shango priests arrange sacriﬁces, puriﬁcation rituals and burials at tremendous costs or conﬁscate property.106 Previously, the Shango cult was a powerful corporation and not fully under the jurisdiction of the local states outside Oyo. Succession to the highest ranks in the cult was vested in certain, mostly royal, Oyo lineages; and other Shango priests who were resident in various kingdoms had to come to Oyo for the ﬁnal stages of their initiatory training and to be equipped with the paraphernalia of priesthood.107 Just like other worshippers, the Shango worshippers have special taboos to observe, and breaches of these may be punished by the deity. Moreover, the moral expectations of Shango are very important. He expects honesty, guards morality and castigates evildoers. Thus, death by lightning may be interpreted as a punishment for serious moral transgressions. Sorcerers, troublemakers and others who oﬀend Shango are in danger of being injured or killed by him.108 Idowu writes about the actions of this divinity as a manifestation of God’s wrath,109 and Isola concludes that he is ‘the sworn enemy of liars, thieves and witches’.110 Consequently, Shango worshippers who have been maltreated by other people may ask him to avenge the wrongs.111 According to Hallgren,112 the morally dual nature of Shango, his mother Yemoja and his wives, who are river deities too, is related to their connection to water, an element that may give as well as take life. Correspondingly, the duality of Ogun, another son of Yemoja and the deity of iron, steel and war, is reﬂected in the constructive and destructive capability or various uses of metal implements.113 Blacksmiths, hunters, barbers, circumcisers, taxi drivers and many others may worship Ogun, whose cult is very widespread and popular. In addition to occupation, membership of certain lineages can be a reason for worshipping this divinity.114 106

Idowu 1963: 92; Simpson 1980: 20. Cf. Maclean 1971: 37. Morton-Williams 1964: 255. In a sense, every Oyo king, alaaﬁn, was Shango. Once on the throne, they incarnated this deity, and when they died, they were deiﬁed and became Shango (Isola 1990: 97). 108 Bascom 1969a: 84; Maclean 1971: 37; Isola 1977: 120. 109 Idowu 1963: 89. 110 Isola 1991: 95. 111 Simpson 1980: 20. 112 Hallgren 1988: 34 ﬀ. 113 Lawson 1984: 61 f.; Hallgren 1988: 36. 114 Idowu 1963: 86 f.; Bascom 1969a: 82; Simpson 1980: 30. For some information about the important role of Ogun at the present century, see e.g. Dennett 1910: 123 ﬀ. and Farrow 1926: 51. 107

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A Yoruba can swear an oath by kissing a piece of iron in a court or may make a covenant in the name of this god. An oath made before Ogun is very serious and may be compared to a Christian’s swearing on the Bible. A person who breaks such an oath can, therefore, be severely punished by the deity. Illness and even death may follow.115 The breaking of taboos and negligence of cultic responsibilities, such as failure to provide annual festivals, are other reasons for punishment.116 For instance, Ogun can be the cause of injuries and deaths in road accidents.117 Because of his association with metals, drivers of motor vehicles often carry a representation of Ogun as an amulet to prevent accidents and ensure their own safety.118 Hence Ogun is also believed to provide protection. In annual ceremonies the worshippers ask him to protect them from diseases, and he is expected to grant them health, fertility and life.119 As the mother of nature deities, Yemoja, a mighty water divinity, has already been mentioned. She is greatly venerated and worshipped almost all over Yorubaland. Numerous Yemoja sanctuaries are found on the banks of the river Ogun. A provider of health and fertility, Yemoja is one of the most important Yoruba deities.120 However, she is associated with illness and death too. For instance, she can cause stomach problems for those who oﬀend her, or kill them by drowning.121 In the old CMS material there is an interesting account by Crowther.122 According to him, a celebrated female ‘impostor’, backed by the chiefs and other prominent men in Abeokuta, had drawn people away from the CMS dispensary. After performing certain ceremonies in the Ogun river, the ‘impostor’ said that all who drank of the water would be healed from all sorts of aﬄictions. Crowther was astonished to observe her success in terms of attracting people to her ‘pool of Bethesda’. All kinds of sick people—lepers, epileptics, deaf, dumb, blind and so forth—came at all hours of the day to drink of the ‘healing water’. This account by Crowther is but

115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122

Idowu 1963: 88; Simpson 1980: 29; Hallgren 1988: 36. Bascom 1969a: 83; Simpson 1980: 30. Bascom 1969a: 83; Simpson 1980: 30; Hallgren 1988: 36. Lawson 1984: 62; Hallgren 1988: 36. Simpson 1980: 30; Hallgren 1988: 37. Farrow 1926: 46; Ojo 1986: 165; Hallgren 1988: 33. Bascom 1969a: 69. Crowther 1855.

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one example of how important the belief in and cult of deities were in the nineteenth century. The deity of the river Niger is Oya, one of the wives of Shango. If worshippers oﬀend or neglect her, she can aﬄict them with a throat disease, which may be fatal. Like Yemoja, she can kill people by drowning too.123 No less dangerous is Oshun, the deity of the Oshun river and another wife of Shango. This goddess ﬁghts by causing dysentery, stomach-ache and menopause, in addition to drowning.124 Like Yemoja and other divinities, however, Oya and Oshun are ambivalent and sources of health and fertility too.125 Obatala (Orisha-nla, Orishala) belongs to an important circle of ‘white’ deities. Their whiteness is usually interpreted as a symbol of purity and high morality.126 In their presentations of Obatala, who is one of the divinities worshipped throughout Yorubaland, Idowu and Awolalu use the term ‘arch-divinity’.127 He is a vice-regent of God on earth and has a special creative power. Above all, God has appointed him to shape the forms of human beings. He is like a sculptor who moulds babies, while life itself comes from God.128 As a moulder of infants, Obatala is responsible not only for normal but also for abnormal forms or appearances. For instance, hunchbacks, cripples, dwarfs and albinos may even be regarded as sacred to him. They become worshippers of him and remind people of his existence. Children born in a caul or with the umbilical cord wrapped around the neck may also be sacred to Obatala.129 It seems, however, that abnormality has been interpreted in other ways too. Farrow saw the existence of abnormal humans as signs of the displeasure of the deity.130 According to information gathered by G.E. Simpson,131 abnormal characteristics of human beings are usually understood as a way of punishing the mother for wrongdoing. For example, disparaging talk about Obatala or violation of some food taboo may be the cause. One of Simpson’s informants, a babalawo who was also

123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131

Ojo 1966: 164; Bascom 1969a: 87 f. Prince 1964: 96; Bascom 1969a: 90; Simpson 1980: 27. Bascom 1969a: 90; Hallgren 1988: 34. Idowu 1963: 73 f., 81; Bascom 1969a: 81; Hallgren 1988: 28. Idowu 1963: 71; Awolalu 1979: 21. Dennett 1910: 83; Idowu 1963: 71; Simpson 1980: 3. Bascom 1969a: 81; Lawson 1984: 59; Hallgren 1988: 28. Farrow 1926: 43. Simpson 1980: 3.

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a devotee of Obatala, added that the divinity can use worms to attack people who displease him.132 First and foremost, however, Obatala is associated with what Hallgren refers to as ‘the good things in life’, that is, health, fertility and so on.133 In many narratives Oduduwa (Odudua, Odua), another white deity, is depicted as the wife of Obatala. However, both these divinities may be thought of as either male or female. As the progenitor of the Yoruba and the ﬁrst ruler of Ile-Ife, from whom subsequent kings descended, Oduduwa is an important deity. Today most Yoruba seem to think of Oduduwa as male.134 Yet, despite his importance as the founder of the royal dynasty, Oduduwa does not have a prominent role as a divine agent of disease.135 Less important, or more local, divinities may also act as agents of disease and death. Here, however, only a few examples can be given. Ibeji is the deity of twins and has a reputation for being cruel, troublesome and stubborn. If parents of twins fail to appease him, he may try to kill the children. Hence he is worshipped by such parents, as well as by twins themselves.136 Egbe is a goddess whose main concern is small children. She can attack such children when they sleep, but she is also capable of healing children, and parents may be advised to worship her.137 Nature deities, such as Olokun, the great sea divinity, the river god Erinle and wind deities, are often dangerous agents of disease and death.138 Two examples of divinities in whose character the constructive and beneﬁcial aspects predominate are Osanyin, the most important deity of medicine, and Okebadan, the city divinity of Ibadan. Osanyin, who is closely associated with Orunmila, is believed to possess more knowledge than any other deity of the use of plant materials to cure illnesses.

132

Cf. Buckley 1985a: 33. Ibid., 6; Hallgren 1988: 28 f. 134 Dennett 1910: 73 ﬀ.; Lloyd 1960: 223; Hallgren 1988: 29. See also Farrow 1926: 44 f.; Idowu 1963: 12, 15; Bascom 1969a: 80 f. 135 In this context it is of interest to note that, unlike some other African peoples with sacred kings, the Yoruba apparently did not believe that the health of the sacred king aﬀected the prosperity of the king’s town, and he was not killed if he was seriously ill (Lloyd 1960: 228). Cf., e.g., Parrinder 1974: 69 and Olupona 1991: 59. 136 Farrow 1926: 58; Simpson 1980: 44 f. 137 Simpson 1980: 47. 138 See, e.g., Dennett 1910: 110; Farrow 1926: 60; Lucas 1948: 151–174; Bascom 1969a: 88 ﬀ.; Simpson 1980: 59; Larsen 1983: 30 ﬀ. 133

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Among other things, Okebadan prevents evil spirits and pestilence from descending on the city, and people expect healing from her. Another divinity closely attached to Orunmila is Ela, who is often invoked during worship to come and bless oﬀerings to other divinities. As a spiritual being of truth and rightness, Ela is opposed to the evil works of Eshu.139 According to Morton-Williams,140 the anger of the divinities is not roused by moral shortcomings of human beings. As a rule, the material presented here supports his conclusion. Rather than moral transgressions, the breaking of taboos, neglect of rituals and failure to placate the deities may rouse their displeasure and result in diseases and other types of misfortune. The frequency and severity of the appearance of the various divinities as agents of illness is much related to their diﬀering characters. Although they are all ambivalent, some of them very seldom, if ever, act as such agents, whereas others, most particularly Shopona, are very prone to cause aﬄictions and other hardships.141 Through disease, or some other misfortune, a divinity may indicate that it is making demands on an individual or a group of people. After the occurrence, or after several occurrences, of some illness, a babalawo may recommend initiation into the cult of a certain deity. Sometimes former patients are also instructed to join a cult to prevent relapsing into the illnesses from which they previously suﬀered.142 However, a patient who, nevertheless, relapses or who is not healed, despite the involvement in the cult of a certain deity, may appeal to another one for relief. There is, in other words, a degree of choice, and disappointed devotees can approach new divinities. In a sense, like ‘Big Men’ in society, deities have a reciprocal relationship with their followers and can be made ‘bigger’ or ‘smaller’ by the attention of their supporters.143 As indicated by the quotation from a work by Prince at the beginning of this chapter,144 divinities have lost much of their signiﬁcance 139 Idowu 1963: 103 f.; Simpson 1980: 16 f., 42, 56. Cf. Ogunsakin-Fabarebo 1998: 14. 140 Morton-Williams 1964: 247. 141 See further, e.g., Prince 1964: 105; Maclean 1966: 139; Bascom 1969a: 91; Buckley 1985a: 188. 142 Morton-Williams 1964: 251; Prince 1964: 105, 113. 143 Barber 1981: 725, 731 f., 736. According to Barber (ibid., 725), this idea is found in several West African cultures where roles are achieved rather than ascribed. 144 Prince 1964: 95.

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in recent decades. Prince concluded that it was only in times of illness or some other misfortune that people paid much attention to their divinities. The ﬁndings of Simpson, who says that ‘the real test of the strength of traditional beliefs comes in times of trouble’, support Prince’s conclusions.145 In such times, according to Simpson, ‘a large percentage of the Yoruba, educated and uneducated, consult a babalawo or other traditional leader for guidance’.146 Otherwise, the belief in the powers of the divinities has decreased sharply, possession is sometimes openly ridiculed, particularly by young people, and civil oﬃcials no longer support ‘traditional rituals’ as they used to do. Simpson’s material indicates that among those who still worship Yoruba deities, highly educated people, men and people in cities are underrepresented.147 It appears that even in the area of disease causation the deities are no longer a major factor. Although Buckley seems to have exaggerated the insigniﬁcance of religious factors, his conclusion that illness is generally not related to the activities of spiritual beings is by and large supported by other scholars.148 In particular, Simpson concludes that, so far as his ordinary informants are concerned, the only orisha of importance in connection with illness is Shopona.149 When ordinary persons are compared to healers, some diﬀerence can be discerned. A healer is more likely to attribute diseases to religious causes than is a non-healer. According to Simpson, this is so ‘because of the healer’s greater familiarity with powerful forces, his greater preoccupation with such forces, and his personal and professional stake in healing and ritual’.150 However, in Prince’s study of 101 psychiatric cases investigated at ‘native treatment centers’ as early as in 1961–62, it is shown that even the healers there referred much more seldom to religious than to human and natural causes.151

145

Simpson 1980: 144 f. Ibid., 145. 147 Ibid., 81, 121, 133 f., 143 f. When asked by Simpson about their personal attitudes toward the retention of the indigenous Yoruba religion, almost 50 per cent of 271 interviewees in the Ibadan area said that they believed it would disappear within a few decades (ibid., 145). 148 Buckley 1985a: 98. 149 Simpson 1980: 109. 150 Ibid., 108. 151 Prince 1964: 96. 146

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Ancestors and Other Spiritual Beings In comparison to Sukuma ancestors, Yoruba ancestors are much less important as agents of disease. While the divinities, orisha, ﬁgure very prominently in the CMS material from the late nineteenth century, ancestors are almost totally absent there. However, since spirits of ancestors have played and still play a certain role as agents of disease, at least a brief account of their position in Yoruba religion is needed here. What is generally referred to as ‘soul’ conceptions among the Yoruba are very complex and varied. In view of diﬀerences in terminology between various areas, it becomes particularly diﬃcult to generalize. Nevertheless, it seems possible to reproduce some relatively consistent views.152 A person is regarded as both a physical and a spiritual being. The most important spiritual elements are usually referred to as emi (breath) and ori or eleda (head), respectively.153 Emi is the vital principle, that is, the power that gives life to the body and distinguishes a living person from the dead. Whereas emi is associated with the chest and lungs,154 ori refers both to the head and the brain, which enables people to think, and to an ‘invisible and intangible’ entity. The ideas of this entity are complex and partly contradictory, but it appears that, at least according to some Yoruba, some part of it exists as a sort of spirit double in a heavenly realm. In order to improve one’s life on earth, one should give oﬀerings to one’s own ori once a year.155 Ori, furthermore, refers to the ‘destiny’ of a person, which is given by God. Yet there is an element of ﬂexibility in that an individual is believed to choose between various alternatives, including diﬀerent characters or temperaments. Besides, sacriﬁces and the assistance of divinities, particularly Orunmila, inﬂuence the content of life on earth in a beneﬁcial way. Conversely, the earthly ori, or destiny, may be altered for the worse by evil beings, like witches, as well as by the actions of human beings themselves.156 Hence it is not a question of

152 The following account is based primarily on the works by Eades (1980: 121 f.), Simpson (1980: 63 f.) and Lawson (1984: 67 f.). Some other works of interest are Prince (1964: 93), Bascom (1969a: 71 ﬀ.) and Olukunle (1979: chapter 6). 153 Cf. Bascom 1969a: 71. 154 Ibid. Cf. Olukunle 1979: 169. 155 Particularly oﬀerings of goats, fowls and sheep are made for that purpose (Simpson 1980: 64). 156 Idowu 1963: chapter 13; Bascom 1969a: 72 ﬀ., 80; Hallgren 1988: 60 ﬀ.

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immutable predestination, even though the content and length of life in some way and to a certain extent is thought of as predetermined. The attainment of a ripe old age may be seen as a good indication that one has fulﬁlled one’s destiny. Concerning the whereabouts of the dead in the hereafter, there are again varying beliefs. There are some notions about the netherworld as a residence for dead humans. More often, however, these are associated with the heavenly realm— to some extent probably because of Muslim and Christian inﬂuence. In particular, the importance of heaven as a residence for dead humans has been emphasized, and perhaps overemphasized, by theologically inﬂuenced Christian scholars like Idowu and Awolalu.157 The Yoruba word for the invisible world of spiritual beings, which is often translated ‘heaven’, is orun. There is a ‘good heaven’, orun rere, as well as a ‘bad heaven’, orun buburu (or buruku). According to Idowu and Awolalu, among others, there is a ﬁnal judgement, and depending on the deeds of human beings on earth, God decides that ‘good’ people will enter the good heaven, while ‘sinners’ will be sent to the bad one. Orun is generally believed to be near God and the orisha. Some people believe that, for instance, a dead babalawo lives with Ifa, while dead albinos live in the garden of Orishala.158 However, to be near God and the divinities in the good heaven is not a ﬁnal goal. Belief in rebirth is an important feature of Yoruba religion. This belief is reﬂected in the tradition of giving children names such as Babatunde (father returns) and Yetunde (mother returns). Yet some spiritual elements of reborn persons continue to exist in the world of spiritual beings as well. Thus the term ‘partial reincarnation’, suggested by Awolalu, may be an appropriate designation.159 In general, reincarnation, or rebirth, seems to be a much longed-for goal. Yet, not all people reach that goal. Bascom reports that ‘cruel’ people and those who have committed suicide can never reincarnate.160 The moral dimension is stressed even more strongly by Awolalu, who says that only the ‘good souls’ can become reincarnated, while

Idowu 1963: 196 ﬀ.; Awolalu 1979: 57 f. Bascom 1969a: 75 f. For more details on Yoruba conceptions of the hereafter, see Hallgren 1988: 67 ﬀ. See also, e.g., Idowu 1973: 188; Dennis 1979: 15; Lawson 1984: 62 f.; Beier 1999: 90. 159 Awolalu 1979: 36. See further Buckley 1976: 411; Eades 1980: 122; Hallgren 1988: 62 ﬀ. 160 Bascom 1969a: 76. 157 158

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the ‘wicked’ ones are not allowed to reunite with their relatives on earth.161 The notion about abiku souls or spirits is of special interest here, since it may be referred to as an explanation of why a child becomes sick and dies. If an abiku is born in a child on earth, it soon leaves for heaven again, because it wants to reunite quickly with its heavenly playmates or companions; and when the abiku returns, the child dies. If a woman gives birth to a succession of children who die in infancy, it may be divined that an abiku is at work. In such a case, special rites are performed when the next child is born in order to break the attachment of the abiku to its heavenly companions. Abiku children are given special names, like Aiyedan (‘life is good’)—implying that the child should stay to enjoy it. Normally, the circumcision and scariﬁcation of an abiku child is postponed until it appears likely that it will survive.162 Apart from oﬀerings to one’s own ori, or ‘spirit double’, oﬀerings to humans are mainly, if not exclusively, directed to one’s parents.163 According to Bascom,164 children sacriﬁce to their dead parents at their graves on the day that these had sacriﬁced to their own ‘heads’ when alive, whereas sacriﬁces to grandparents are made only when a diviner or priest, babalawo, for some particular reason tells the grandchildren to make such a sacriﬁce.165 In a sense, ancestors are still regarded as family members, and they continue to inﬂuence the lives of their own families on earth.166 If properly served, they have powers for their lineage members and their wives of bestowing children, health, protection and prosperity.167 In general, they are considered benign,168 although they may cause illnesses and other types of misfortune too. In Prince’s interviews

161

Awolalu 1979: 59. Morton-Williams 1960: 35; Leighton et al. 1963: 80; Eades 1980: 122 f. Oladapo reports in a study (1984: 110 f.), which is based on interviews with about 200 healers in the Ile-Ife area, that some illnesses that are very diﬃcult to diagnose and name may be interpreted as eﬀects of diseases suﬀered in a previous life. 163 Forde 1951: 29; Morton-Williams 1960: 37; Simpson 1980: 64. 164 Bascom 1969a: 72. 165 In accordance with his general emphasis on the moral dimension, Awolalu (1970: 25) states that only ‘good ancestors’ are remembered and invoked. Like divinities, these ancestors are ‘intermediaries’ or means of reaching God himself. 166 Dopamu 1977: 103. 167 Morton-Williams 1964: 247; Awolalu 1970: 27. 168 Barber 1981: 729. 162

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about the causes of psychiatric illness, ancestors were never mentioned. Sometimes, however, physical diseases, as well as ‘unrest of mind’ and lack of prosperity, were attributed to them.169 It appears that there are often moral reasons for aﬄictions sent by ancestors. Their role as guardians of morality has been stressed not only by theologically inspired scholars like Awolalu,170 but also by more secularly oriented anthropologists like Morton-Williams, who concludes that the ancestors are concerned with the good reputation of their descendants.171 Moral shortcomings of descendants rouse the displeasure of ancestors. Other reasons why ancestors cause illnesses may be failure to sacriﬁce and lack of proper burials.172 Funeral ceremonies and rituals should be performed as soon as possible so that the dead person does not cause illness or some other misfortune. Although the very elaborate funeral rituals cannot be studied in detail here, it should be stressed that many of them are intended to ensure that the deceased will be born again. In the preceding section it was noted that people who die of smallpox or by lightning are buried in special places by the priests of Shopona and Shango respectively. Other people who may be buried in sacred groves of speciﬁc divinities are lepers, albinos, hunchbacks, women who die in pregnancy and others who have met death in special ways. In normal cases, a deceased is buried in a grave that is dug under the ﬂoor of or outside his or her house.173 In Yoruba history, cult groups such as egungun, ogboni and oro have had important political, social and judicial functions.174 The egungun masquerades represent ancestors but assume a role that cuts across descent-group boundaries. Prominent men with lineal descendants may hope to have egungun masks bearing their names and to have songs sung in their praise, while masqueraders robed from head to foot in a variety of dresses parade through a town. Important male 169

Prince 1964: 94. Awolalu 1970: 25. 171 Morton-Williams 1964: 247. See also, e.g., Horton 1971: 41. 172 Prince 1964: 94. 173 Bascom 1969a: 66 ﬀ.; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 258–263; Adeniyi 1984: 70. Bascom (ibid., 66 f.) gives several examples of precautions that must be taken. When bathing the corpse, for instance, the head must not nod at anyone, lest that person will die too. The ﬁne clothes are put on backward so that the deceased will know its way back to earth when the time for rebirth comes; and, in order to avoid the dead person returning as a leper, no cloth with red colour can be used. 174 See, e.g., Farrow 1926; Forde 1951: 18; Morton-Williams 1964: 252. 170

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spirits of ancestors are ritually present in these masked dancers. There is a dual signiﬁcance of the egungun cult in that it involves a commemoration of individual ancestors as well as representing the collective dead acting on behalf of the community as a whole on special occasions such as festivals.175 Simpson reports that, unlike ordinary ancestors, those who are represented in the egungun cult may aﬄict living humans not only with physical ailments but also with mental illness. Some people believe that egungun spirits function as messengers for dangerous deities in a malignant way too.176 There are diﬀerent classes of egungun, and the elder and most powerful one is also the most feared.177 Egungun masks must not be touched by uninitiated people, particularly women, and violation of that taboo may be considered extremely dangerous.178 In general, however, the attitudes towards egungun spirits, like the attitudes towards other ancestors, are characterized as much, if not more, by love and aﬀection as by fear or awe.179 The ogboni used to be the politically most important cult group or secret society. The members of this society, mainly highly inﬂuential, elderly men, worshipped Ile, the earth goddess, whom they regarded as superior to all orisha or divinities. By settling civil disputes, dealing with criminal charges and curbing the power of kings and chiefs, they were supposed to maintain law and order. Sometimes ancestors are associated with Ile and her earthly realm, but there are also certain vengeful spirits, who seem to be regarded as manifestations of her power, who may punish misdeeds on the part of the members of the ogboni. During the initiation ritual a new member must swear, among other things, not to reveal the secrets of the cult. Violation of this and other taboos may cause disease and even death.180

175

Morton-Williams 1960: 36; Eades 1980: 123 f.; Lawson 1984: 63. See also Beier 1999: 85–104. 176 Prince 1964: 95. 177 Bascom 1969a: 93; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 230; Beier 1999: 93. 178 Formerly, it was believed that such a violation could even result in death (Hallgren 1988: 56; Beier 1999: 94). 179 Eades 1980: 123; Hallgren 1988: 56. As will be shown in chapter 8, the egungun cult, as well as other cults studied here, have important functions in the struggle against anti-social activities. Some senior members of the egungun cult are believed to be able to identify witches, who among the Yoruba are almost invariably women. 180 For documentation and more information on the Ogboni society, see e.g. Dennett 1910: 32; Morton-Williams 1964: 245, 248; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 225 ﬀ.; Comstock 1979: 7; Simpson 1980: 60 f.; Hallgren 1988: 64 f.

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The oro society is another secret association, which previously was politically powerful in south-western Yorubaland, especially among the Egba in Abeokuta. Oro is a deity, but the members of this purely male society invoke and sacriﬁce to spirits of ancestors too. For instance, when there is an epidemic, the ancestors are summoned and sacriﬁces are made at special groves.181 The oro cult is partly intended to check the spread of diseases and to deal with evildoers in the spiritual realm as well as among living humans.182 A particularly important ritual object in the oro cult is the bull-roarer, which has an awe-inspiring sound and which is highly dangerous for wrongdoers and uninitiated people.183 While the male element is predominant in the egungun, ogboni and ori cults, the female aspects are more pronounced in the gelede of western Yorubaland. This is another masquerade cult in which men masquerade as women, some of whom look fat and grossly pregnant.184 Although gelede members seem to be concerned primarily with the issue of fertility, men join the cult because of their own impotence or because their wives are barren. Diseases caused by witchery may be a reason for joining gelede too.185 The masks represent dead ancestors active in the service of the living, bringing the latter fertility and health. However, if an initiate refuses to dance under the mask or defects from the cult, he might well be punished with illness.186 In recent times the signiﬁcance of the ancestors, as well as of societies such as egungun, ogboni, oro and gelede, has waned a great deal. Simpson, for example, concludes that belief in the powers of not only the orisha but also the ancestors ‘has decreased sharply’.187 About three decades ago, it was reported that among the Egba in the

181 See, e.g., Lucas 1948: 120 ﬀ.; Morton-Williams 1960: 37; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 227 ﬀ. 182 Like Shopono and Shango priests, the priests of Oro may be called to make atonement after certain deaths. Bascom (1969a: 93) reports that this happens when a man who has suﬀered from elephantiasis of the testicles dies. 183 Morton-Williams 1964: 256; Simpson 1980: 53 f.; Adeniyi 1984: 57. 184 Both egungun and gelede are associated with a deity called Amaiyegun who taught people how to make and use the costumes that mask their wearers (Bascom 1969a: 94 f.). 185 Gelede herself was a witch when she lived on earth, and members of the cult propitiate witches by sacriﬁces. 186 Prince 1964: 109; Bascom 1969a: 95; Hallgren 1988: 57 f. 187 Simpson 1980: 81.

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Abeokuta area lineage obligations were increasingly neglected and that village-oriented deities were more important than lineage ancestors.188 The ogboni and oro societies have lost much of their inﬂuence to modern institutions like courts and local administrations; and they are now largely defunct. In 1914 a revised ogboni association called the Christian Ogboni Society was organized, the name of which was later changed to the Reformed Ogboni Fraternity, but this association does not attract much support either.189 In addition to divinities and ancestors, there are some other spiritual beings. These spirits, ebora, lack institutionalized priesthoods and are more local and less powerful than the deities, orisha.190 Apparently, the spirits are principally associated with natural phenomena and, like deities and ancestors, they are ambivalent. Although, in general, such spirits do not play an important part in human aﬀairs, they may occasionally be thought of as agents of disease or some other misfortune.191 For instance, whirlwind spirits and forest spirits can harm people.192 Some scholars write about ‘evil spirits’, anjonu, that may be dreaded and can cause mental as well as physical illness.193 According to Wolﬀ, these spirits are thought of as a kind of evil spirits ‘responsible for bringing disease and misfortune to people’.194 Like other African peoples, Yoruba conceive of ‘health’ as an inclusive entity. It is not simply a physical, mechanistic absence of symptoms.195 The Yoruba term alaﬁa, which sometimes is translated ‘health’, is the sum total of all that is good and that humans may desire—‘an undisturbed harmonious life’.196 According to Awolalu, alaﬁa is very similar to the Hebrew concept of shalom, which refers to those things that make for harmony, joy and wholeness in all

188

Leighton et al. 1963: 51, 220. Cf. ibid., 289 f. Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 227; Simpson 1980: 149. 190 Adeniyi 1984: 84 f.; Buckley 1985a: 98. 191 Morton-Williams 1964: 245; Awolalu 1979: 45; Barber 1981: 729. 192 Ojo 1966: 172; Dopamu 1977: 635. 193 See, e.g., Wolf 1979: 127 and Oladapo 1984: 144, 174. 194 Wolﬀ 1979: 130. Sometimes the terms spirits and divinities are not clearly distinguished. Simpson (1980: 103) reports, for instance, that smallpox is widely attributed to ‘meeting evil spirits’, that is, to meeting Shopona. 195 Lowery-Palmer 1980: 214. 196 Awolalu 1970: 21. 189

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respects. ‘From the Yoruba point of view, alaﬁa is incomplete or disrupted when there is no totality about it.’197 In this chapter, as in the preceding ones, the signiﬁcance of the relationship of human beings to God, divinities, ancestors and other spiritual beings for health and well-being in general has been studied. The following chapters of the book will deal with the importance of the interrelationship between living humans.

197

Ibid., 22. Cf. Buckley (1985a: 66) who, in his more ‘naturalistic’ account of Yoruba ideas of health and illness, refers to health as an ordered structure of the body. For more information on the views presented by Buckley, see the appendix.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LIVING HUMANS AMONG THE SAN AND MAASAI The role of ‘witch’ is not an institution of Bushmen society.1 Maasai religion is . . . characterized by a general lack of belief in witchcraft and other forms of ‘superstition’.2

Introduction The lack or paucity of living human agents of disease is a characteristic feature of hunting-gathering San as well as of pastoralist Maasai. This is amply documented in older as well as in more modern sources. As a rule, it is only among San and Maasai who, usually in recent time, have been inﬂuenced by other peoples that living humans have become signiﬁcant as agents of disease. Regarding San in general, Guenther says that ‘social diseases’, mainly witchcraft and sorcery, were introduced by the black peoples, and that the San’s own ‘religious system’ has ‘always been devoid’ of these ‘black arts’.3 It is not surprising to ﬁnd that Father Schmidt concluded that ‘Schwarzzauberei’ was of little or no signiﬁcance among Kung and other San groups.4 However, his conclusion has been supported by other older scholars who do not seem to have been inﬂuenced by his theory of Urmonoteismus;5 and, in works from the most recent decades, other scholars have stressed the lack of indigenous conceptions of witchery too.6

1

Lee 1967: 37. Berg-Schlosser 1984: 170. 3 Guenther 1975/76: 47. 4 Schmidt 1933: 609. 5 E.g., Maingard 1937: 285; Esterman 1949: 31; Drobec 1953: 135. Cf. Passarge 1907: 109. 6 Marshall 1962: 249; Silberbauer 1972: 320; Woodburn 1982: 203. Cf. Smith et al. 2000: 86. 2

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Among pastoralist Maasai, human agents of disease and death are, and have been, of slightly greater importance than among huntinggathering San. However, these agents are primarily, or almost exclusively, healers and elders who may use their special power to inﬂict harm on other people. For this purpose they use the method of cursing or certain witchery practices. As will be seen, there are important diﬀerences between these human agents and the ‘witches’ and ‘sorcerers’ found among the agriculturalist peoples that will be studied in the following chapter. Like Lee in the quotation above, Marshall says that the Kung do not have ‘sorcerers, witches or witch doctors’.7 This has been said about pastoral Maasai society as well, although to some Maasai, people with ‘evil eyes’, who phenomenologically or functionally may be compared to ‘witches’, do exist. San It has been remarked that certain features of the healing systems of hunting-gathering peoples such as San are strikingly similar to witchcraft phenomena.8 The ability to travel out-of-body, seize souls, change shape into animal form and handle ﬁre are some examples. In societies where witchcraft is a prevalent problem, as will be exempliﬁed later, there may be a belief that not only witches but also, for instance, healers and chiefs, are able to perform such supranormal feats. As far as belief patterns are concerned, San have in their ideas of the supranormal power called num (Kung) or tsso (Nharo), as it were, a seed for the development of witchcraft should the conditions conducive to such development arise. Although the power of num is normally used for healing purposes, it is an ambivalent power, like God himself, from whom it ultimately derives, and can thus cause diseases as well as provide health. Katz reports a healer called Toma Zho, ‘a healer in transition’, once in a trance dance pointing his ﬁnger across the dance ﬁre at another dancer, who immediately fell over. By doing so, Toma Zho caused his num to become dangerous, a ‘death thing’.9 Even from earlier periods there are, in fact, examples of healers who have used their power for negative or evil purposes. Like spiritual beings, healers 7 8 9

Marshall 1962: 249. Zuesse 1985: 233. Katz 1982: 178, 263. Cf. Guenther 1975: 164.

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have sometimes been thought of as being capable of shooting small invisible or visible arrows, thus causing diseases.10 In some accounts,11 the supranormal ‘weapon’ of the healers has been referred to as the ‘Bushman revolver’. Writing on the Nharo, Barnard conﬁrms Bleek’s information about ‘grass arrows’ but adds, again in conformity with Bleek’s description, that accusations of ‘evil medicine’ within the community are rare.12 Another means by which a healer has been believed capable of harming other human beings is by transforming himself or herself into a dangerous animal. While, at least for the southern San, the antelope was the symbol of the socially beneﬁcial healer, the lion symbolized the antisocial possibilities of trance.13 In the past, according to Lee, San regarded a lion that had attacked a human being as a human healer-turned-lion.14 However, since such attacks are very rare, there is little reinforcement of the belief in the malevolence of trance dancers. Although Barnard may be right in criticizing Guenther for being too categorical in saying that it was not until recently that witchery was introduced among San,15 some other scholars appear to have exaggerated the historical signiﬁcance of this problem. Since it is particularly in older sources, written by scholars such as Vedder, Seyﬀert and Dornan, that witchery is said to be important,16 it could be asked whether it was indeed a more prevalent problem at the beginning of the twentieth century than in recent decades.17 In view of the contradictory evidence found in other and usually more reliable sources, it seems more likely, however, that older scholars like Vedder and others were not well informed about this issue. 10

E.g., Bleek 1928: 28; Schapera 1930: 196. E.g., Vedder 1937: 430; Wilhelm 1954: 166. 12 Barnard 1979: 71. The ‘grass arrows’ are imitations of real arrows. They are made of grass and have small pieces of horn attached as arrowheads. When Nharo say that such arrows ‘kill’ (ku), the phrase is not to be taken literally. Rather, they cause a crick in the neck. Cf. Bleek 1928: 28. 13 Holm 1965: 68 f.; Lewis-Williams 1981: 97. 14 Lee 1967: 35. Cf. Heinz 1975: 29. 15 Barnard 1979: 70 f. 16 E.g., Vedder 1912: 411; Seyﬀert 1913: 204; Dornan 1925: 144, 153. 17 The statements of the authors referred to in the preceding note that most or virtually all deaths were believed to be caused by witchery or ‘Zauber’ can be compared, for instance, to the report by Woodburn (1982: 203) who says that Kung, among others, show little or no interest in the causes of death and repudiate the idea that death is caused by the supranormal actions of other members of their own society. Cf. further Schapera 1930: 214; Hirschberg 1975: 394. 11

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To some extent, also, the question of regional variations must be taken into consideration. One San people among whom witchery seems to be more signiﬁcant than among, for instance, Kung and Nharo, are the Kxoe, although even they practise it much less than neighbouring Bantu peoples.18 Kxoe healers who use the supranormal power of tco (cf. tsso among Nharo and num among Kung) for evil purposes are much feared. In most cases, however, evildoers who use supranormal powers are believed to be Mbukushu, a neighbouring Bantu people, who allegedly have secret medicines which are more powerful than Kxoe medicines.19 This seems to be the case in the Nharo and Kung areas too, where San fear the possibility of witchery attacks from outsiders more than from their own healers.20 According to Köhler, Kxoe can become ill because of something he calls Tierzauber. Without the interference of human enemies, people can become ‘bewitched’ by wild animals. It is by the activation of the power of tco that an animal, or plant, can ‘bewitch’ a human being and thus make that person ill. For example, big warts or protuberances in the face of a person may be associated with the evil inﬂuence of a warthog.21 In recent decades the contacts between San and black peoples have become intensiﬁed. Further, San have become increasingly incorporated into the process of modernization. The new situation has brought about signiﬁcant changes in the conceptualization of diseases and their causes. For instance, the eastern farm Nharo studied by Guenther now compartmentalize sickness into three categories. First, ‘Bushman disease’ is represented by the sickness tssa Neri, which is treated by the trance dancer. Second, ‘Bantu disease’ consists of witchery, and its treatment is in the hands of the Bantu healer. 18

Köhler 1971: 319. Köhler 1978/79: 28 f. 20 E.g., Barnard 1979: 71; Woodburn 1982: 203; Guenther 1986: 60. 21 With reference to examples such as this, Köhler (1978: 54) draws the following conclusion regarding ‘Tierzauber’ among Kxoe: ‘In den meisten Fällen lässt sich nachweisen, dass dem Tierzauber das Motiv der Ähnlichkeit zwischen einem Körperteil des Tieres, dem Tier als Ganzem in Gestalt und Farbe sowie Eigenarten und Gewohnheiten des Tieres einerseits und den Krankheitssymptomen des Menschen andererseits zugrunde liegt.’ On the issue of ‘Tierzauber’ I have found little or no information in other sources. One exception is Wilhelm (1954: 168), who holds that Kung ascribe ‘magische Kräfte’ to certain animals. Another cause of disease that is seldom mentioned in the sources on San is the curse. Heinz (1975: 26) reports that Ko may curse each other, but these curses do not involve suprahuman powers, and they know that their curses ‘have little meaning’. 19

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Third, ‘European disease’ consists essentially of organic, communicable illnesses such as tuberculosis, which are treated by European or other biomedically trained practitioners. Although a few of the eastern Nharo have begun to practise ‘a Bushman version of witchcraft’ called tssoku, ‘poisoning’ (cf. tsso), ‘Nharo witchcraft’ is squarely based on the Tswana complex, to which many Nharo have access through ties of intermarriage. In the hands of an Nharo, witchery practice is somewhat vague or spurious and not very much feared.22 The fear of witchery practised by non-Nharo is, on the other hand, ‘always most intense, bordering on terror’. The new witchery practices have highly disintegrative eﬀects on individuals as well as on the settler community as a whole. As argued by Guenther, the eﬀects would probably have been less serious or destructive had the Nharo been able to deal with the problems of witchery within their own conceptual system.23 Nharo lack their own defences and must, thus, rely on Bantu healers in order to handle these problems. A similar situation exists also among the Dobe Kung studied by Katz and Lee. When Kung suspect that witchery of an unfamiliar black person is the cause of an illness, they do not attempt further healing, because they believe that such witchery is too strong for their num.24 Although they are struggling to accommodate the witchery beliefs of their black neighbours, the Kung therefore have to consult black healers. Conversely, black people are also impressed with Kung healing techniques and frequently ask Kung healers to treat their sick. According to Lee, Kung are less impressed with ‘European’ theories of disease causation than with those of their black neighbours; but they have easily accepted the eﬃcacy of ‘European’ medicines, particularly antibiotics.25 One of the changes that have occurred among Kung is the introduction of a new dance, the drum dance, which is performed by women. The women dance and enter trance, while the men here play a supportive role, beating the drum. The use of drums is the result of inﬂuence from the Mbukushu.26 The drum dance is not primarily a healing dance as such but rather a dance for introducing 22 Guenther 1975: 164; Guenther 1986: 218, 240 f. See further, e.g., Widlok 2001: 361. 23 Guenther 1986: 60 f., 65 f. 24 Katz 1982: 55, 103. 25 Lee 1984: 116 f. 26 Cf. the early account of the use of drums in San dances in Lloyd (1911: 355).

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women to kia and allowing them to go deeper into it.27 Another change is the professionalization of healers and the introduction of payment for their treatment. This change has taken place among, for example, Nharo too.28 Moreover, there has been a recent rise in trance dance performances, and the ritual has become more elaborate and esoteric. Guenther has observed some revitalizing eﬀects generated by the trance dance, including the establishment of a sense of San-wide ethnic identity. Among farm Nharo, religion has gained ‘foremost prominence’, and the healer has become ‘a powerful rallying symbol that represents the San people and their culture’.29 According to Guenther, religion has not only become more prominent but also more standardized and coherent.30 Maasai Since healers, iloibonok, are the primary human agents of disease among Maasai, a brief presentation of this category of people is needed. An important characteristic of healers is that they usually belong to a special clan. According to some mythical accounts, the ﬁrst healer was sent by God at a time when the Maasai were already a populous group. This healer, who is often called Kidong’oi, a name which means ‘tail’, was adopted by the ancestors of the Aiser clan, and healers therefore normally belong to the Enkidong’ family or sub-clan of that clan.31 This sub-clan is the only one among pastoral Maasai organized along lines of a segmentary lineage system and possesses a long genealogical tradition.32 Although the Enkidong’ family has gained ‘an extraordinary prominence’ in Maasailand, there are some healers in various parts of this area who do not belong to this family.33

Lee 1984: 113 ﬀ.; Katz 1982: chapter 9. Guenther 1986: 262 ﬀ. See further, e.g., Smith et al. 2000: 86 f. 29 Guenther 1975/76: 50 ﬀ. 30 Guenther 1986: 286 ﬀ. 31 See further, e.g., Fischer 1882/83: 63; Fokken 1917: 249 f.; Blumer 1927: 80; Schmidt 1940: 323; Bernardi 1959: 163; Sankan 1971: 73 ﬀ.; Saibull & Carr 1981: 18 f., 55; Århem 1989: 81; Waller 1995: 28. 32 Jacobs 1965: 321. 33 Galaty 1977: 279, 296. 27 28

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There are diﬀerent versions of the way in which Kidong’oi came to the Maasai. For instance, according to some accounts he was sent from heaven, whereas other versions indicate that he emerged from the earth. He may be depicted as a semi-divine and semi-bestial being—with a tail, as indicated by his name.34 Some Maasai hold that he was of Kikuyu origin, while others suggest that he came from the Oromo further north. All seem to agree, however, that he was not a Maasai.35 Although the genealogy of Enkidong’ healers can be traced back to the middle of the seventeenth century, it has been suggested that they arrived later.36 Whatever the exact time of arrival, it seems that the number of these healers is still quite low in comparison to the number of healers among neighbouring peoples.37 Not all members of the Enkidong’ sub-clan function as healers.38 However, in addition to consulting the Enkidong’ iloibonok, or the few proper Maasai healers, Maasai are known to consult healers from other ethnic groups.39 This was exempliﬁed in the account of spirit possession above, but that is not the only case when foreign healers are consulted. Members of the Enkidong’ sub-clan have certain powers and gifts or talents, provided by God, which other human beings do not have. Because of the supranormal power of Enkidong’ healers, other people regard them as particularly awe-inspiring, and there is a certain fear of them. In their diﬀerent localities they, therefore, tend to live apart from others. As representatives of God they are, in a sense, marginal men.40 In particular, the Enkidong’ healers have a gift of prophecy or clairvoyance and know how to fabricate and use ‘ritual medicine’.41 They are believed to have a power of knowing what has happened and what will happen.42 Supranormal medicines, or amulets, are called intasimi (sing. entasim) and diﬀer from ordinary

34

Galaty 1977: 280–288; Århem 1989: 81. Jacobs 1965: 321; Voshaar 1979: 331. 36 E.g., Voshaar 1979: 208; Hurskainen 1984: 182. 37 Hauge 1979: 59. 38 Jacobs 1965: 322. 39 E.g., Galaty 1977: 306 f.; Hauge 1979: 59; Hurskainen 1984: 184. 40 Jacobs 1965: 321 f.; Marari 1980: 43; Århem 1989: 81. Blumer (1927: 80) even claims that the most important of them are thought of as divine, on a par with God himself. This, however, seems to be an exaggeration. 41 Fokken 1917: 251; Sankan 1971: 75; Galaty 1977: 302 f. For a special study of the prophetic role of Maasai healers, see Waller 1995. 42 Galaty 1977: 295; Waller 1995: 32 f. 35

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medicines (ilkeek) in that it is not the physical properties that count but the supranormal qualities.43 There are diﬀerent types of iloibonok. They have various skills, and some are more powerful and inﬂuential than others.44 However, none of these healers must be confused with the ilabaak (sing. olbaani ), who are (secular) doctors or curers who operate, vaccinate, set broken bones and know the healing properties of ordinary medicines.45 As agents of God, the iloibonok have not only creative or constructive but also destructive supranormal powers. Hence they have the power to cause disease and death through, for instance, cursing as well as the power to heal and ensure fertility.46 Their curses, ildeketa (sing. oldeket), are considered stronger than those of most common Maasai and, according to Galaty, are perhaps used with less restraint.47 Among other people who may curse in order to inﬂict illnesses or other misfortunes upon others, the elders are the most important category. However, curses as well as blessings can be used by a variety of people, sometimes including women, who may curse their own children.48 In other cases, curses by women are not considered eﬀective.49 Apart from the specialist oloiboni, the most potent curses— as well as blessings—one can receive are from individuals who stand in certain determinate relationships to oneself, such as the father or grandfather or mother’s brother. A curse is an act that passes between friends rather than strangers and is not an anonymous but a public act. Members of a superior age-set are like ‘fathers’ to members of an inferior one. Hence elders wield a curse threat over warriors.50 The belief in the power of cursing, or blessing, is associated with legitimate authority, which underpins the social order.51 In particular, curses of elders are considered eﬀective on account of the right order 43 Voshaar 1979: 211; Århem 1989: 76. The term intasimi may also refer to the very rituals in which amulets are fabricated as well as to rituals in general (Mol 1978: 42; Olsson 1989: 238). See further, e.g., Blumer (1927: 81) and Berntsen (1973: 80). 44 Bernardi 1959: 162 f.; Jacobs 1965: 321 ﬀ.; Henschel 1983: 156. 45 Jacobs 1965: 322; Voshaar 1979: 203 f.; Sindiga 1995: 97 f. For some information on other types of specialists, see Voshaar 1979: 204 ﬀ. See also Waller 1995: 43. 46 Galaty 1977: 321; Århem 1989: 81; Sindiga 1995: 100. 47 Galaty 1977: 310. 48 E.g., Saibull & Carr 1981: 39; Spencer 1988: 48; Landei n.d.: 44; Peron 1995: 52; Waller 1995: 29; Voshaar 1998: 147. 49 Voshaar 1979: 187. 50 Galaty 1977: 309 f., 370; Voshaar 1979: 187; Landei 1982: 56. 51 Spencer 1988: 219.

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of things and are used or threatened to be used for the beneﬁt of the community or family.52 The ultimate agent of the curse is God himself, and appeals are made to him to punish an alleged oﬀender.53 The power of cursing can be misused, however, and especially the iloibonok are believed to use their power occasionally for their own private beneﬁt, allegedly because they are greedy and power-seeking.54 It seems that any kind of disease and death may be caused by a curse.55 Although a curse is usually given by word of mouth, the intention, anger or ill-will of a person may be enough to inﬂict harm upon another individual.56 However, diseases and deaths caused by curses or negative intentions appear to be rare.57 Concerning the relationship between a Matapato father and his children, Spencer says that: In practice, it is the blessing that is constantly uttered, whereas the curse is largely a rhetorical threat. These threats are generally seen at most as attempts to intimidate children into submission, since even in the heat of anger no reasonable father would want to undermine his own family and inﬂict misfortune. Some maintained, however, that in extreme situations the death curse really is intended.58

Beyond the protective care of parents, the mystical knowledge and power of elders at large takes on a more formidable aspect; and the morality of respect for age is seen, in the ﬁnal analysis, as a matter of life and death.59 Yet elders seem to show great restraint before they resort to the pronouncement of curses. During his more than twelve years among Maasai, Voshaar came across very few instances of curses; and, with regard to the Arusha, Gulliver says that material compensations for injuries or deprivation of rights are more common than the use of supranormal means.60 52

Voshaar 1979: 213. Gulliver 1963: 286; Kimerei 1973: 19; Olsson 1989: 236. The words of a formula of curse are like ‘negative words of prayer’ (Kimerei 1973: 30). 54 Voshaar 1979: 213; Spencer 1988: 220. Cf. Landei (1982: 61) who says that a curse cannot harm an entirely innocent person. 55 Kimerei 1973: 27 f.; Galaty 1977: 321; Peterson 1985: 175. From the Arusha area, Gulliver (1963: 288 ﬀ.) reports on ritual oaths of various kinds that may occasion serious illnesses and death too. 56 Voshaar 1979: 187; Landei 1980: 21; Ndoponoi 1986: 17. 57 E.g., Gulliver 1963: 286; Voshaar 1979: 187. 58 Spencer 1988: 48. 59 Ibid. 60 Voshaar 1979: 189; Gulliver 1963: 288. Cf. Galaty (1977: 310) who concludes that ‘while many curses are actually taken lightly, since they function more as abuses than imprecations, many are exceedingly serious and require a ritual removal by a counter blessing of the curser’. 53

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A special role is played by the blacksmiths (ilkunono) since they are believed to command a curse over all Maasai in a general rather than in a speciﬁc sense, much as a member of one age-set holds the power of a curse over all members of a reciprocally inferior age-set. In other words, all blacksmiths hold such power over all other Maasai. The blacksmiths are said to wield this power because all possessions and actions depend on them, for nothing important can be done without the implements of iron.61 Blacksmiths are despised and considered inferior; they live separately and form an endogamous group.62 The source of the contempt for the blacksmiths is their fundamental ascendancy over the Maasai based on the relationship of maker and user, giver and receiver, specialist and ordinary citizen. The blacksmiths are a small minority and their habitations usually clustered in a few locations; but through their crafts they are implicitly involved, at a basic level, in all Maasai functions and activities.63 Like healers (iloibonok) and elders, blacksmiths consider themselves in accord with God in their use of the curse, because the power in general as well as the eﬃcacy in particular depends upon the mediation of God. Maasai, however, do not link their curse with divine mediation and intrinsic justice but see the curse as vindictive and illustrative of the blacksmiths’ envy of them. For major as well as minor diseases and other misfortunes the blacksmiths are ready scapegoats.64 Little mentioned by Maasai but stressed by the blacksmiths themselves is the power of healing inherent in them. Like other persons with a power of harm, they have an inverse power of assistance or healing too; and they prefer to be considered as men of constructive rather than destructive powers and aims. The most common aﬄictions treated by blacksmiths are disease and barrenness. When treating people, they use charms or ritual medicines which are unique to them. Blacksmiths even claim that iloibonok are blessed and healed by them.65 Curses can be accompanied by certain acts sometimes loosely referred to as ‘sorcery’ or ‘witchcraft’, esakutore or esakutote.66 The 61

Galaty 1977: 371 f. See also Waller 1995: 33. Fokken 1917: 248; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 157; Laube 1986: 119. 63 Galaty 1977: 382. 64 Ibid., 375 f. 65 Ibid., 379 ﬀ. Like blacksmiths, members of other ethnic groups such as Gogo and Rendille are outsiders whose supranormal power and ritual curse may be much respected and feared ( Jacobs 1965: 322). 66 Voshaar 1979: 213; Spencer 1988: 220; Århem 1989: 81. According to Mol (1978: 172), esakutore refers to ‘witchcraft (in general)’, whereas esakutote means ‘witchcraft (in particular)’; the verb, ‘to practise witchcraft’, is asakut. 62

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practising of witchery, which can cause disease and death, may require that the agents possess something of the victims, such as ﬁngernails or hair or the dirt of their footprint.67 Outside of the village, such substances are mixed with other ingredients, picked up with the leaves of certain trees and ﬂicked in the inauspicious direction of the victims themselves.68 Acts of witchery may be performed by members of the Enkidong’ dynasty from which all sorcery is assumed ultimately to derive.69 Galaty and Spencer seem to agree that the most common situation in which sorcery occurs is that of competition or jealousy between iloibonok.70 Several scholars stress, however, that these healers practise witchery in rare cases only.71 In addition to the iloibonok, there is another group of people, called ilkuyatik, who possess certain supranormal skills for good or evil. Very little has been written on these persons. Voshaar brieﬂy mentions their existence but does not say why they are believed to have special powers.72 It seems that the ilkuyatik, who are more associated with witchery than are the iloibonok, previously had the place of the latter. Hence they were probably healers who were pushed away by the emerging iloibonok. At least in Tanzania, there are still some ilkuyatik who practise healing, although they fear the stronger power of the iloibonok.73 The idea of ‘sorcerer’ or ‘witch’, olasakutoni,74 who harms people simply out of evil motives or for proﬁt, does exist, even though it appears to be quite insigniﬁcant.75 According to Galaty, ordinary Maasai virtually interchange the terms of oloiboni and olasakutoni and primarily fear the former.76 Among Matapato, the stereotype of the 67

Galaty 1977: 312, 371; Peterson 1985: 175; Århem 1989: 81. Galaty 1977: 312; Voshaar 1979: 213 f. Galaty (1977: 312 f.) adds that bewitching can also occur through the use of thoughts and songs or by the assistance of an animal, often a fox, to convey the ‘medicine’ to the village of the victim. See also Hauge 1979: 58. 69 Jacobs 1965: 322; Spencer 1988: 221; Århem 1989: 81; Waller 1995: 31. 70 Galaty 1977: 312; Spencer 1988: 221. 71 E.g., Jacobs 1965: 323; Hauge 1979: 59; Hurskainen 1984: 184. Cf., e.g., Fuchs (1910: 129), Berthold (1927: 5) and Landei (n.d.: 41) who hold that iloibonok do not use their supranormal power for evil purposes and in order to cause harm. 72 Voshaar 1979: 214. Cf. Hauge 1979: 56. 73 This information is based on personal communication with A. Hurskainen. Cf. Jacobs 1965: 323. 74 Cf. Mol 1978: 172. 75 Galaty 1977: 306; Hauge 1979: 57 f. Cf. Mol 1978: 172. 76 Galaty 1977: 306. Cf. the apparently misinformed accounts by, among others, Fischer (1882/83: 72) and Dallas (1931: 41). 68

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sinister sorcerer is usually not a stranger but a jealous brother or co-wife.77 Sorcery, which requires only technique and no moral justiﬁcation to be eﬀective, is like poison in the hands of a malicious person. People are expected to adopt a lifestyle that would attract neither the jealousies of sorcerers nor the suspicions of others that they might be sorcerers themselves. Sorcerers deliberately seek to harm their victims and may pose a threat to strong people as well as weak, although elders claim that their power to curse is superior to the power of any known sorcerer. Elders themselves disclaim any detailed knowledge of the techniques of sorcery, since that would raise awkward questions as to how they know.78 However, although the competitive and jealous iloibonok are the most common suspects of sorcery, elders who adopt too remote a life-style, and cut themselves oﬀ from their age mates, may also be suspected of practising sorcery.79 Concerning the Arusha, the written information on witchery problems is scarce, but some reports seem to indicate that such problems are, or have been, more prevalent among these settled Maasai than among the semi-nomadic, pastoral Maasai.80 In the category of human causation of disease there is, furthermore, a belief in people with ‘eyes’, inkonyek. Such a belief is conﬁrmed by early as well as by more recent scholars.81 At the beginning of this century, Merker reported that the belief in the ‘evil eye’, that makes human beings and animals sick, was widely spread (‘allgemein verbreitet’);82 and seventy-ﬁve years later Hauge, likewise, concluded that there is ‘a general belief that some persons can cause harm by staring at someone with an “evil” eye’.83 People with ‘eyes’ can peer right into living things and ‘see’, for instance what they have eaten or the sex of a foetus. The natural desires for things like food and 77

Spencer 1988: 45. Ibid., 219 ﬀ. 79 Ibid., 225 f. 80 Fleisch 1936: 438; Hohenberger 1936: 1; Gulliver 1963: 289. It is possible that the missionaries Fleisch and Hohenberger exaggerated the importance of witchery. On the other hand, the conspicuous absence of accounts of witchery in the recent works by indigenous authors like Kimerei, Landei and Marari may be understood in the light of their diﬀerent tendency not to blacken but rather to ‘uplift’ the religion of their own people. In general, African scholars of religion have paid little attention to witchery phenomena. See further, e.g., Westerlund (1985: 30, 36). 81 E.g., Fischer 1982/83: 72; Koenig 1956: 96; Ndoponoi 1986: 17; Sindiga 1995: 101; Voshaar 1998: 155 f. 82 Merker 1904: 203. 83 Hauge 1979: 58. 78

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children can be dangerous when they well up in such people. Their hidden desires do not harm their own families and herds, but others are at risk. When they look at an adult person or a cow, the ‘poison in their eyes’ may cause faintness or mild illness. However, small children and calves are more vulnerable and can become seriously ill or even die.84 The ‘evil eye’ is inherited and does not necessarily imply malevolent intent. If a person with ‘eyes’ gives a blessing by spitting in the direction of any possible victim, the eﬀect of the ‘poison’ is neutralized. However, there are malcontents and strangers who pass through an area who may wish to conceal their power. Unknown guests at local celebrations or feasts are, therefore, politely asked to spit. Moreover, a pregnant woman is expected to keep her body well covered in order to protect the foetus when there is a stranger in the vicinity. Partly because of the fear of ‘eyes’, children hide behind their mothers’ skirts when visitors are coming. Even dangerous animals are sometimes said to have ‘eyes’.85 In comparison to, among others, Kisonko Maasai to the south, Matapato less often fear abnormal people with ‘eyes’ who pose a general threat. Rather, Matapato suggest that the real danger to mothers and children comes from normal Matapato who nurture grief for a child that died or a child that was never even conceived. The belief in ‘eyes’ is an expression of the idea that inner feelings are assumed to emanate from within a person and aﬀect the intimate social environment. It is, therefore, important that people with sad memories or unfulﬁlled desires should spit to annul the harmful eﬀects that might stem from their suppressed feelings.86 A baby who has been harmed by the ‘evil eye’ of a person can only be healed by the same person. Hence iloibonok cannot be of help in such a situation.87 In addition to hiding a baby, however, there are other preventative measures that may be used to avoid illnesses caused by people with ‘eyes’. Various kinds of amulet are believed to make the ‘evil eye’ ineﬀective. Ultimately, such objects are provided by God himself, not by human beings.88 84 85

Spencer 1988: 43. Hauge 1979: 58; Voshaar 1979: 195 f.; Spencer 1988: 43 f.; Voshaar 1998:

156. 86 87 88

Spencer 1988: 44; Voshaar 1998: 155 f. Hauge 1979: 58; Spencer 1988: 43. Voshaar 1979: 206 f.

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In certain respects the changes during colonial and post-colonial times have led to a decrease of the inﬂuence of the iloibonok. For instance, they no longer foretell favourable times for warfare and cattle raids, nor do they prepare war amulets for warriors. An important change of particular interest here is the introduction of biomedical services to the Maasai. Whereas the iloibonok formerly provided virtually all the medical services for people and livestock, local dispensaries or regional hospitals and veterinary facilities now provide important supplementary services. As observed in the account of the recent phenomenon of spirit possession in chapter three, Maasai healers now have to compete with Bantu and Swahili healers too.89 Paradoxically, however, the position of iloibonok has been strengthened, and their number has increased. Even some women now become healers. One reason for the strengthened position of iloibonok is that they have gradually suppressed the ilkuyatik. Similarly, they have gradually replaced rain-makers too.90 Moreover, the consultation of biomedical practitioners does not necessarily mean that the expertise of the iloibonok is rejected. Rather, as remarked by Galaty, it often happens that individuals will simultaneously consult the local medical clinics as well as iloibonok, believing that both methods together may help where one alone would fail.91 Galaty concludes that healers of the Enkidong’ family have gained ‘an extraordinary prominence in Maasai-land, to the near exclusion of any competition’.92 Because their power has expanded, other specialist groups have become redundant or at least very peripheral in the hierarchy of consultants. By condensing the supranormal functions in one institution, iloibonok may have rendered the system of supranormal explanations of events more coherent. According to Galaty, it is perhaps the overlapping quality of functions that explains both the ascendancy of the iloibonok and the growing power of their oﬃce through the last century and the ‘incredible competition’ between various healers.93 Voshaar emphasizes that, while the signiﬁcance of healers has increased, the authority of elders has begun to crumble under the

89 90 91 92 93

Benson 1974: 115; Berg-Schlosser 1984: 168 f.; Hurskainen 1984: 186 f. Galaty 1977: 277. Ibid., 326. Ibid., 279. Ibid., 319 f.

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pressure of modern changes in the ﬁelds of, for instance, knowledge and education. He holds that, particularly in the southern parts of Maasailand, some iloibonok, whose motives are ‘greed and power’, are successful in creating fear through esakutore and the threat of their curses.94 A certain increase of the use by healers of their supranormal power for evil purposes is also reported by Hauge. He stresses, however, that ‘evil medicine-men’ are still scarce and that, on the whole, there are fewer healers among Maasai than among neighbouring peoples like Chagga and Luo. According to Hauge’s old informants, people who previously wanted to harm anyone consulted healers from such neighbouring groups, because ‘evil medicine-men’ and the practising of ‘evil magic’ were ‘extremely rare in former days’.95 Admittedly, the sources are more or less vague on the issue of changes in the ﬁeld of disease causation. Yet it seems clear that, perhaps with the exception of the upsurge of spirit possession in some Maasai areas in Tanzania, there have been no drastic changes; even though the increased importance of witchery, and particularly of the iloibonok as agents of disease, is of somewhat greater signiﬁcance among Maasai than are the similar changes among San.

94 95

Voshaar 1979: 268. Hauge 1979: 59.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WITCHERY AMONG THE SUKUMA, KONGO AND YORUBA The conception of the sorcerer (nlogi ), who understands and secretly practices bad magic knowing that it is immoral, is a very real presence in every Sukuma community.1 [Among the Kongo] the social sources of illness are seen to be more pernicious than ever and the branches of medicine that deal with witchcraft and magic more necessary than ever.2 While good relations have to be maintained with the orisa and the ancestors, the greatest dangers probably lie in the activities of the witches. Witchcraft beliefs are still almost universal among the Yoruba, despite the growth of education and the world religions.3

Introduction These quotations concerning, respectively, Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba indicate that belief in witchery is still very strong or even stronger than before. Among the Sukuma there is no clear diﬀerentiation between ‘witchcraft’ and ‘sorcery’. Hence the Sukuma concept bulogi may be translated ‘witchery’.4 In the literature, bulogi has also been referred to as ‘black magic’ and ‘poison’, although ‘witchcraft’ and ‘sorcery’ seem to be the most commonly used terms. People who practise bulogi are called balogi (sing. nlogi).5 Some accounts of their activities stress the aspect of witchcraft, that is, an inner

1

Tanner 1956b: 437. Janzen 1979: 209. 3 Eades 1980: 125. 4 See, e.g., Nathalie 1884: 188; Brard 1897: 157; Welch 1974: 200. 5 According to Tanner (1956b: 437), the term bulogi comes from a verb meaning ‘to fear’. Cf. the concept mitunga, as discussed by Hendriks 1952b: 44. 2

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extraordinary power used for evil purposes.6 Others emphasize their character of sorcery techniques that in principle are available to everybody.7 There is much dread and hatred of balogi. Symbolically, bulogi is associated with the colour black. While the blackness of lifegiving clouds of rain and fertility is good, the blackness of witchery and death is bad. Mhola, the desirable state of everything, is threatened by the activities of balogi.8 These may or may not be associated with ‘medicines’. Bugota, or buganga, is a Sukuma concept that has often been translated as medicine. It represents an impersonal power within human reach and can be manipulated by human beings. The concept is comprehensive and refers, for instance, to headache powders and injections for bilharzia as well as to protection against evildoers and medicines for revenge. In bulogi, the power of bugota is utilized aggressively in order to harm people.9 Regarding the Kongo, missionary accounts from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries frequently contain references to witchery beliefs and practices. Judging by these accounts, witchery was at that time an important phenomenon among the Kongo;10 and, as exempliﬁed by the quotation concerning the Kongo at the beginning of this chapter, later reports by missionaries and scholars show that during the twentieth and early twenty-ﬁrst century it was continuously signiﬁcant.11 There are many similarities between the Sukuma phenomenon of bulogi and the kindoki of the Kongo. The concept of kindoki, like bulogi, may refer to both mystical and technical means (‘witchcraft’ and ‘sorcery’).12 Since it appears, however, that ‘witchcraft’, in Evans-Pritchard’s sense, is the most important aspect of kindoki, the following account will focus on that aspect.

6 ‘On emploiera le terme “nogi” pour signiﬁer que quelqu’un possède un pouvoir secret et extraordinaire de jeter un mauvais sort qui aura comme eﬀet la maladie ou la mort de quelqu’un’ (Table n.d.a.: 521). 7 ‘Les balogi sont les artisans de la Magie Noire, magie considerée comme néfaste’ (Gass 1973 [1919]: 411). 8 Brandström 1990, chapter 5: 20. The word bulogi comes from the verb kuloga, which means to fear. Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 67. Cf. Bösch’s account of the Nyamwezi (Bösch 1933: 224). 9 Cory 1949: 13 ﬀ.; Hatﬁeld 1968: 83; Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 12 f. 10 Augouard 1885: 103 ﬀ.; Cambier 1890: 367; Dewilde 1894: 397; Butaye 1896; Baltus 1898: 77; Le Scao 1908: 332; Le Scao 1915: 429 ﬀ. 11 See also, e.g., Boucher 1928: 147; Struyf 1933: 400 ﬀ.; van Wing 1959: 377; MacGaﬀey 1983: 151; Dalmalm 1985: 75. 12 MacGaﬀey 1986: 185. Cf. Dalmalm 1985: 85.

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As a morally ambivalent supranormal power, kindoki can be utilized for both positive and negative purposes. Whereas, among others, chiefs and healers (banganga) use, or at least are normally supposed to use, this power with good intents, bandoki (‘witches’/‘sorcerers’) act in evil and destructive ways.13 As utilized by the latter, kindoki is the antithesis of ideal governance. ‘The contrast between competent authority and the disastrous consequences of unbridled envy, anger, and injustice is a recurring theme in the exploration of causality of illness.’14 Aﬄictions caused by kindoki belong to the category of ‘illness by man’.15 Another means by which living humans can provoke illnesses, both among the Kongo and the Sukuma, is through curses. As explanations of disease, references to human agents are of great signiﬁcance in Yorubaland too.16 Among the Yoruba, there is a conceptual diﬀerentiation between ‘witchcraft’ and ‘sorcery’. A common term for ‘witch’ is aje, and a ‘sorcerer’ is usually called oso.17 Collectively, witches and sorcerers are sometimes referred to as ‘children of the world’.18 Belief in witchery seems to be almost universal in Yorubaland. Regarding ‘magic’ in general, P.A. Dopamu says that the demand for it is ‘endemic’.19 Simpson reports that, among his more than three hundred informants, there was no one who did not believe in the existence of witches; and Adeniyi argues that no other indigenous belief is ‘more ingrained’ than the belief in such beings.20 In a similar way, many other scholars conﬁrm that witchery beliefs are very real and prevalent among Yoruba people, regardless of sex, age and occupation. In addition to the particularly serious activities of ‘witches’ and ‘sorcerers’, the use of the curse, epe, is a signiﬁcant non-physical means of causing illness among the Yoruba too.21

13 14 15 16 17

See, e.g., Jacobson-Widding 1979: 68; Mahaniah 1979: 209, 214. Janzen 1978: 24. Ibid., 67, 73. See, e.g., Leighton et al. 1963: 38; Prince 1979: 115; Oladapo 1984: 191. Lucas 1948: 283; Dopamu 1977: 27, 41; Wolﬀ 1979: 127. Cf. Olukunle 1979:

105. 18

Eades 1980: 121; Lawson 1984: 66. Cf. Wolﬀ 1979: 128. Dopamu 1977: 669. 20 Adeniyi 1984: 32. 21 See further, e.g., Maclean 1971: 32; Dopamu 1977: 154, 263, 288, 660; Olukunle 1979: 237; Eades 1980: 125; Simpson 1980: 127, 135, 137; Buckley 1985a: 11; Osunwole n.d.: 3. 19

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In an article entitled ‘The Ingredients of Magic Medicine’, Cory concludes that ‘the medical knowledge and magical practices of the Sukuma-Nyamwezi tribal group are acknowledged as the leading school in a considerable part of the territory’.22 There is a great concern for bugota in various contexts, such as in the secret societies, special-purpose associations and ritual guilds, as well as in the everyday life of Sukuma people.23 In 1956, Tanner thought that it would probably be impossible to ﬁnd anyone among the Sukuma who did not believe in the existence of balogi. Yet he held, also, that there was ‘a broad basis of scepticism to all their mystical knowledge’ that prevented any particular conception in their religion gaining dominance. It must not be inferred that the community is sorcerer-ridden and that the average Sukuma is constantly avoiding or suﬀering from bad magic. It is rather that witchcraft is one of several answers to misfortune which have to be sifted and calculated by the many magicians . . . who are consulted by almost everyone in trouble.24

Among the Sukuma there are numerous stereotypes about balogi, which are well known in many other cultures too. For instance, they can make themselves invisible and transform themselves into animals, including lions and crocodiles. In particular, they are associated with hyenas. Balogi co-operate and meet each other in nocturnal covens. In lonely places they sing and dance naked together. Moreover, they commit gruesome crimes such as incest and infanticide.25 Balogi can instigate all kinds of evil. Illnesses and deaths are frequently caused by them. For example, meningitis, nervous disorders, mental aﬄictions, venereal diseases and sterility may be attributed to the actions of balogi. Aﬄictions caused by them often have symptoms related to swellings and internal pain. It is common, also, to see incurable maladies as a result of their evil machinations. In general, however, there are no speciﬁc diseases that are occasioned by balogi 22

Cory 1949: 13. Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 13. 24 Tanner 1956b: 437 f. Almost half a century later, he still claimed that ‘virtually the whole Sukuma population’ believed in bulogi. Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 49. 25 Brard 1897: 157; Gass 1973 [1919]: 430 ﬀ.; Table n.d.b.: 522; Tanner 1956b: 439; Reid 1969: 54. Regarding the Nyamwezi, see Bösch 1930: 224 f.; Blohm 1933: 148 f. 23

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only. If a person whose illness has been caused by ancestors, God or natural causes does not get relief, the problem of witchery may be considered.26 Above all, balogi are the prime instigators of accidents and deaths. When people die, the causes are seldom believed to be natural or physical only. In particular, stillborn babies and people who have died at an early age are easily seen as victims of bulogi. Accidental deaths are more prone to bulogi causation than are non-accidental.27 Balogi may or may not use medicines when harming other people. The composition of medicines is based, in part, on symbolic principles. The ingredients are associated with the victim and the desired result. Incantations may help activate the supranormal power needed. It is, further, essential to obtain not only something of the would-be victim, or something that he or she has used, but also to know the full name of that person. As indicated above, another means by which a nlogi can harm or kill a person is by transforming himself or herself into a wild animal. There are other supranormal means of attacking and harming people as well. However, the simple poisoning of somebody’s food or drink may also be regarded as an act of balogi.28 Extraordinary power is associated not only with balogi but also with batemi, chiefs, and bafumu, healers. According to Cory, the ‘magic powers’ of Sukuma chiefs represented the fundamental source of their authority. Although the power of batemi is an ambiguous one, it is normally used for, and meant to be used for, beneﬁcial ends.29 Because of the supranormal power of chiefs, balogi composing aggressive medicines may try to take, for instance, some food from the table of a chief. In order to avoid misuse of their saliva, chiefs have avoided spitting.30 Although both the nlogi and the mfumu have extraordinary

26 Table n.d.b.: 2, 150, 585 f.; Tanner 1956b: 438 f., 442; Abrahams 1967: 78; Reid 1969: 73, 77; Wijsen 1993: 148; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 65. See also Bösch 1930: 224 f.; Blohm 1933: 150. 27 Nathalie 1884: 187; Brard 1897: 157; Barthelemy 1905: 286; Gass 1973 [1919]: 429; Table n.d.a.: 18, 123, 521; Hendriks 1952b: 8; Tanner 1956b: 439; Welch 1974: 200; Ng’weshemi 1990: 28. 28 For more details, see Cory 1949: passim; Table n.d.a.: 521, 527 ﬀ., 582 ﬀ.; Wright 1954: 71; Tanner 1959a: 113; Tanner 1967: 18; Reid 1969: 74; Tanner 1970: 20; Balina et al. 1971: 47. 29 Cory 1951: 74. See also, e.g., Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 20; Blokland 2000: 14. 30 Table n.d.a.: 274.

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power, they are very diﬀerent. Unlike balogi, bafumu are respected persons who use, or are supposed to utilize, their special power for good and constructive purposes. Bafumu may well be suspected of using their force and knowledge in a wrong or destructive way, and anti-social medicines may be submerged in the covert parts of their profession. Yet it seems rare to ﬁnd healers among people accused of practising witchery.31 As a rule, bafumu are leading opponents of balogi. An important function of secret societies, in which the former play leading roles, is to disclose or identify the latter and to provide remedies. When initiated into secret societies, novices are taught about the world of witchery and how to avoid its evil eﬀects.32 Bulogi is seen both as something inherited and as an acquired knowledge or power. Hence people can seek after knowledge of witchery in a conscious and deliberate way. Yet there is also an assumption that balogi originally carried with them some latent disposition for evil. While some authors, like Tanner, stress the former aspect, others, such as Millroth and the White Fathers who in the early 1950s compiled the answers to the questionnaire, emphasize the view that people were born balogi. In part, this seems to be a reﬂection of the fact that the Sukuma themselves diﬀer in this matter.33 It appears that all people may be accused of practising bulogi. Possibly, accusations of witchery are directed mostly against successful and rich people, particularly those who do not share their wealth with the less fortunate. Balogi are both male and female, although the latter seem to be more frequently accused than the former. In particular, co-wives in polygamous households are exposed to witchery accusations. Women before as well as, in particular, after menopause may be charged with practising witchery. Not only close kinsfolk but also aﬃnes and neighbours may bewitch each other. Balogi are seen as social and moral deviants with harmful powers rather than as people with physical and mental abnormalities, and there is much fear of them. Moreover, the fear of being accused is an important means of social control in the society.34 31

Gass 1973 [1919]: 411 f.; Hatﬁeld 1968: 104; Welch 1974: 210. On the Nyamwezi, see Bösch 1930: 224 and Blohm 1933: 148. 32 Gass 1973 [1919]: 413; Cory n.d.b.; Table n.d.a.: 542, 544; Hendriks 1952a: 31 ﬀ. See also Bösch 1930: 225 f. 33 Table n.d.a.: 523; Millroth 1965: 145. Cf. Tanner 1956b.: 442 and Tanner 1970: 22 f. See further Welch 1974: 203. 34 Table n.d.a.: 523; Tanner 1956b: 440, 442; Abrahams 1967: 78; Tanner 1970: 22; Welch 1974: 188, 197, 208, 211; Wijsen 1993: 152; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 66, 134.

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Since terrible things may happen because of the greed, envy, anger and desire for revenge of balogi,35 they have been, and may still be severely punished. Old sources by missionaries have many references to killings of balogi among the Sukuma. These missionaries mention, also, that chiefs had the main responsibility for the conviction of people accused of practising bulogi, and that the bodies of these people were not properly buried. Some people who were accused took their refuge in mission stations, where missionaries tried to protect them. Since the colonial authorities prohibited the killing of balogi, some of these were cleaned out and chased away from their homes.36 Although balogi may still be killed, forced migration has increasingly become the ‘solution’ to the problem of bulogi.37 There is some evidence that the problems of witchery have increased in recent decades. In 1956, Tanner concluded that ‘old men can still remember that before the German occupation witchcraft was rare’.38 Tanner, as well as Gass, noticed that the believed increase of balogi led, also, to a rising number of bafumu.39 In 1971, some indigenous writers held that even most of the baptised Christian Sukuma believed ﬁrmly in bulogi;40 and two years earlier Reid concluded that balogi had become more important than ancestors as causative agents of disease. In other words, there has been a tendency of restructuring, that is, to attribute illnesses that were once considered ancestor caused to witchery accusation.41 The Witch Murders in Sukumaland by Tanner is a report about killings of accused balogi in 1962. Many women, who were charged with the killing of several people, were beaten to death with branches by crowds of men.42

35 On such motifs, see Tanner 1956b: 437, 440 and 1970: 19. See also Bösch 1930: 224. 36 Nathalie 1884: 187, 191; Livinhac 1888: 334; Hirth 1894: 460; Brard 1897: 157; Hirth 1899: 174; Barthelemy 1905: 286. 37 See further Bösch 1930: 231; Table n.d.a.: 524; Hendriks 1952b: 45; Schans 1955: 30; Tanner 1956b: 438; Abrahams 1967: 42, 61; Welch 1974: 188; Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 67. Whereas Bösch (1930: 228) writes about ordeals, ﬁre tests and poison cups among the Nyamwezi, Schans (1955: 26) claims that the use of poison was not indigenous among the Sukuma, though it may have been used to some extent because of inﬂuence from neighbouring peoples. 38 Tanner 1956b: 443. See also Wijsen 1993: 115, 142. Cf. Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 59. 39 Ibid.; Gass 1973 [1919]: 435. 40 Balina, Mayala & Mabula 1971: 46. 41 Reid 1969: 186 f. See also, e.g., Wijsen 1993: 115, 142; Tanner & Mitchell 2002: 131; and Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 55. 42 Tanner 1970: 7 f.

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In his report about these events, Tanner stresses very strongly the almost universal belief among the Sukuma in bulogi.43 Even though there has been a general tendency of increase in terms of witchery problems, there are certain ﬂuctuations in the intensity of these issues. In the mid-1980s, there was a new height of the problem of bulogi. Hence it was perhaps not too much of an exaggeration when Steeves spoke, in 1990, about a ‘constant threat’ of spiritual dangers such as witchery.44 Kongo Bandoki, as well as other people with kindoki, have a kundu (or several makundu). A kundu is a special gland, usually found in the stomach, which enables the ndoki to ‘eat’ (dia) the vital essences or power of other people. It is believed that, through autopsy, the kundu (or makundu) of a dead ndoki can be found.45 Most accounts depict a belief in kundu as a real bodily organ. However, some scholars stress the notion of kundu as a symbol of evil.46 A one-sided emphasis on the realistic or the symbolic understanding of kundu appears to be illfounded. Rather, there is both a symbolic language and a belief in kundu as a real gland in the body.47 Like chiefs and banganga, bandoki are said to possess ‘four eyes’ or ‘night knowledge’. Thus, they can move about in the world of spiritual beings and deploy powers derived from it in the world of living humans. Prophets (bangunza) in indigenous churches may also have night knowledge or intelligence.48 The feats of bandoki are similar to feats told about balogi

43 ‘It would now be almost impossible to ﬁnd anyone who does not believe in the witch’s existence as one of the basic elements in their social life—a living reality rather than an abstract idea’ (Tanner 1970: 19). 44 Steeves 1990: 88 and personal communication with Bill Arens in 1990. On the issue of curses, which are of much less signiﬁcance among the Sukuma than among the Maasai, see Ng’weshemi 1990: 27. 45 For more details, see van Wing 1959: 345; Laman 1962: 216; HagenbucherSacripanti 1973: 144; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 54; Widman 1979: 164 f.; Pambou 1979–80: 23 ﬀ.; Jacobson-Widding 1983: 382; MacGaﬀey 1986: 163 f. 46 The symbolic interpretation is emphasized by, among others, Buakasa (1973: 142) and Axelson (1983: 23 ﬀ.). 47 See further Dalmalm 1985: 205 ﬀ. 48 Buakasa 1973: 29, 138 f.; Mahaniah 1982: 32; MacGaﬀey 1983: 140; MacGaﬀey 2000: 204. Cf. Dalmalm 1985: 85. To some degree, all elders also have special power (MacGaﬀey 2000: 222).

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among the Sukuma. For instance, bandoki can transform themselves into animals, leave their bodies and ﬂy away. It is very diﬃcult for the banganga to catch kundu people or bandoki, as they may hide anywhere at all and pass into any body or shape. The nsala [soul] of someone without kundu cannot leave his body completely to enter another shape, but this is a feat of the ndoki.49

Kindoki is an important explanation for evil, and it is frequently the answer to the question why somebody has become ill. Other kinds of misfortune may also be due to kindoki.50 With the exception of sporadic maladies, which appear and disappear quickly, virtually all sorts of illnesses may be caused by bandoki.51 Thus, physical diseases as well as mental disorder can belong to this category. According to A. Jacobson-Widding, particularly lingering sicknesses, internal problems and all conditions characterized by lack of appetite, faintness and a gradual decline are due to the activities of bandoki.52 A general characteristic of maladies occasioned by bandoki is that they tend to be serious.53 The evil machinations of a ndoki can also cause problems of reproduction, such as sterility and miscarriage.54 In many cases, the attacks of bandoki lead to the death of the victims. Early missionary accounts very often provide examples of such deaths.55 In 1959, van Wing claimed that nine out of ten deaths were considered to be caused by kindoki and that domestic animals were also killed by bandoki.56 In particular, kindoki is suspected in virtually all cases of premature deaths.57 A ndoki may ‘eat’ a victim in any place and at any time.58 When the ndoki ‘consumes’ the victim’s inner essence, the latter sickens or dies.59

49 Laman 1962: 217. See also, e.g., Sadin 1910: 138; van Wing 1959: 365, 373; Laman 1962: 225–234; Buakasa 1973: 147; Pambou 1979–80: 23; Dalmalm 1985: 87. 50 Le Scao 1915: 431; van Wing 1959: 421 f.; Widman 1979: 178 f.; MacGaﬀey 1983: 135; Dalmalm 1985: 85, 90. 51 Buakasa 1973: 148. 52 Jacobson-Widding 1983: 382. 53 See further Mahaniah 1982: 39–46. 54 van Wing 1959: 358, 365; MacGaﬀey 1986: 162. 55 See, e.g., Augouard 1885: 103 f.; Dewilde 1894: 379; Baltus 1898: 77; Butaye 1899: 311. 56 van Wing 1959: 368, 371, 377. Cf. Vansina 1975: 673. 57 Jacobson-Widding 1983: 382. 58 Laman 1962: 222. 59 Ibid., 219; MacGaﬀey 1986: 161.

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chapter eight Witches supposedly kill by stealing the souls of their victims and either eating or imprisoning them . . . Imprisoning the soul causes the visible body to sicken and eventually die, but victims can be rescued by healers able to discover where the soul has been taken and to force or negotiate its return.60

As among the Sukuma and many other peoples, those among the Kongo who were accused of being bandoki could previously be forced to drink poison, in the Kongo case made of bark from a tree called nkasa. This was the most common and feared ordeal. It was described and strongly criticized in many early reports by missionaries.61 In case of guilt, the poison was believed to pierce the kundu, which was then excreted. Failure of the poison to identify a suspect who by other criteria was ‘obviously’ a witch could be attributed to the suspect’s ingenuity in hiding his kundu inaccessibly in his body or outside it altogether, in the care of simbi spirits. Convicted witches were subsequently killed by other means. Exonerated suspects danced triumphantly naked, received heavy compensation from their accusers and often took new names.62 How, then, have bandoki been unmasked, and what kind of people have been accused among the Kongo? While the bandoki themselves are supposed to recognize each other, even if they live in diﬀerent villages, it can be diﬃcult for others to know who they are.63 Certain banganga and nkisi are specialists in revealing bandoki. A victim may also recognize a ndoki in his or her dreams, and the ndoki can subsequently be unmasked by a nkisi through its nganga. Moreover, certain bodily peculiarities, such as red eyes or deformed limbs, may arouse suspicions of kindoki.64 Envy, greed, lechery and nervousness can be seen as ndoki characteristics. However, it is very diﬃcult to establish certain types of ndoki personalities.65 The kundu power can be inherited. It is also possible to be initiated at a later stage in life. Accidentally, a person may become ‘contam60

MacGaﬀey 1986: 162. Cf. van Wing 1959: 372. See, e.g., Augouard 1885: 105 ﬀ.; Butaye 1896; Circulaire 1926: 1 f.; Struyf 1933: 401. For information on other types of ordeals, see Widman 1979: 172 f. 62 MacGaﬀey 1986: 166. See also van Wing 1959: 253 ﬀ.; Pambou 1979–80: 37; Dalmalm 1985: 82. 63 Laman 1962: 222. 64 Ibid., 220 f. 65 van Wing 1959: 371; Buakasa 1973: 144; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 63; JacobsonWidding 1983: 383. 61

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inated’ by kindoki. One way of becoming a ndoki is to eat, unsuspectingly, meat that is in fact human ﬂesh. Even if this meal may be consumed ‘at night’, that is, in one’s dreams, it can nevertheless be binding.66 Both women and men can be suspected and accused of being bandoki.67 In various ways, bandoki tend to be ‘outsiders’. They may be exceptionally rich and talented, live longer and have more children than others. People who have become too rich and successful are easily suspected of being bandoki. Suspicions of kindoki may thrive where there is rivalry for power. Kindoki is a way of manifesting the competitiveness of Kongo society, and accusations may be provoked by someone’s feelings that he or she has been outsmarted.68 People who are outsiders in the sense of being, for instance, handicapped or too poor may also be suspected of practising kindoki.69 The Kongo frequently say that bandoki attack only members of their own lineages.70 Increasingly, however, fellow-workers, class-mates and others have also been accused, particularly in urban areas. ‘In modern practice, anybody may be accused of bewitching anyone else.’71 Although killings of bandoki can still, illegally and secretly, occur, they may now instead have to move from their home areas.72 First, however, attempts to make people confess and achieve reconciliation should be made.73 In the twentieth century several kindoki eradication movements, such as the Munkukusa of the early 1950s, have been active in the Kongo area; and prophets in indigenous churches became important helpers in the ﬁght against the spread of bandoki. At times, people have also relied, ‘to a far greater extent than missionaries realized’, on two institutions that replaced the

66 MacGaﬀey 1986: 164. See also van Wing 1959: 370; Buakasa 1973: 145; Widman 1979: 171; Dalmalm 1985: 89. 67 Hagenbucher-Sacripanti (1973: 146) stresses the signiﬁcance of kundu inheritance from mother to child, and Janzen (1978: 77) says that old, postmenopausal women are often suspected of envy toward younger, fertile clanswomen. Cf. JacobsonWidding (1979: 58) who argues instead that women are seldom bandoki. 68 MacGaﬀey 1986: 161. See further Buakasa 1973: 138 f.; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 53, 63, 79; Mahaniah 1982: 85 f.; Jacobson-Widding 1983: 384; MacGaﬀey 1983: 141, 143, 146. 69 Buakasa 1973: 144; Dalmalm 1985: 88. 70 Jacobson-Widding 1979: 61; Dalmalm 1985: 88. 71 MacGaﬀey 1986: 164. See also Dalmalm 1985: 89. 72 At the time when there were slaves among the Kongo, the rich and powerful could put forward slaves to take the poison ordeal for them. See further Augouard 1885: 106; Le Scao 1908: 331; MacGaﬀey 1986: 38. 73 Dalmalm 1985: 80 f.

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poison ordeal: the Christian eucharist and surgery. ‘Both were regarded as fatal to those who submitted to them without confessing their witchcraft.’74 As will be discussed in the next chapter, witchery issues are much involved in political contexts.75 Diseases caused by kindoki are an extreme manifestation of tensions and conﬂicts. However, ill will, envy, lies, malevolent intrigues and backbiting may suﬃce to cause an illness. Even gossip, which is a destructive force that erodes community harmony, can occasion maladies and other kinds of misfortune. Since ‘conﬂict may cause illness’, reconciliation—sometimes enforced—is vitally important.76 Conﬂicts can concern, for example, dissatisfaction with inheritance distribution, wedding gifts and harvests. Nowadays particularly serious contradictions may derive from conditions of labour migration, distribution of wages and other sources of prestige.77 As among the Maasai, for instance, blessings and curses are important causes of health and disease respectively. For the Kongo, the curse of fathers is of particular signiﬁcance. Unlike a maternal uncle, who has jural power over his sister’s children, a father only holds ‘mystical’ power (kitata) to punish his own children. His curses, and blessings, can be pronounced when he is alive as well as in the afterlife.78 A father’s curse can have more or less serious eﬀects. Thus, minor aﬄictions such as headaches as well as, for instance, infertility may be the result.79 When curses are uttered by lineage heads, whose power of cursing is particularly strong, the consequences may be even more serious.80 Yoruba Among the Yoruba, aje (witchcraft) is an inherent power and, somehow, witches are usually believed to ‘keep’ this special power in their stomachs. More rarely, it is associated with their eyes. Some people 74 MacGaﬀey 1986: 167 f. See further, e.g., Widman 1979: 203–232; MacGaﬀey 1983; MacGaﬀey 2000: 99. 75 See also MacGaﬀey 2000: 225 f. 76 Janzen 1978: 95, 99, 144, 205; Batukezanga 1981: 58. Cf. Dalmalm 1985: 78. 77 Mahaniah 1973: 233; Janzen 1978: 145. 78 Mahaniah 1973: 235; Jacobson-Widding 1979: 52, 72, 76; Widman 1979: 118 ﬀ.; Jacobson-Widding 1983: 385. In some parts of northern Kongoland, where residence is patrilocal, fathers have jural power over their own children. Nevertheless, there may be a fear of kitata even there. 79 Janzen 1978: 178; Widman 1979: 203. 80 Jacobson-Widding 1979: 74.

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believe that the witches obtain their special power from God, whereas others hold that it is derived from the divinities, orisha.81 Since the power is ambivalent, it may be exercised for good and protective, as well as for bad or destructive, purposes. Normally, however, it is believed to be used solely for evil and anti-social ends. Unlike ‘sorcerers’, witches need not use ‘magical’ objects or techniques.82 Whereas osho (sorcery) is basically a male activity, the great majority of witches are women, particularly old women. Most of those who openly claim to be witches are barren women, past childbearing age. Other women in unfortunate circumstances, who are unable to achieve their wishes, are easily suspected of using witchcraft.83 Several scholars write about the belief in a real ‘witch cult’, composed mostly of elderly women in league with each other, which is highly secret and much feared.84 The secret guild, or ‘assembly meeting’ of witches at night, is called ajo.85 As a rule, the power of witchcraft is inherited, that is, it passes from mother to daughter. However, it may also be given to nonrelatives, and it can even be purchased.86 Although a person may not necessarily be aware that she (or he) has the power of witchcraft, most witches are believed to know that they are witches.87 Yoruba ideas of witches are similar to those found in Sukumaland as well as in many other parts of the African continent and elsewhere. For instance, they are credited with the power of transformation into animals such as birds or cats. When a witch has metamorphosed herself into an animal, she falls into a deep sleep or becomes unconscious. If anything happens to their familiars, some evil or even death will befall the witches’ human bodies. Weird cries of nocturnal birds are often regarded as signs of the presence of witches.88

81 According to Maclean (1971: 41), the power of witchcraft is given by Eshu, and Buckley (1985a: 100 f.) reports that Shopona and witches may co-operate with one another. 82 Lucas 1948: 283; Dopamu 1977: 31, 36, 596; Simpson 1980: 76 f., 92. Cf. Awolalu 1970: 80. 83 Morton-Williams 1960: 37 f.; Leighton et al. 1963: 46 f.; Olukunle 1979: 192. 84 E.g., Prince 1964: 91; Awolalu 1970: 29; Olukunle 1979: 105. 85 Lucas 1948: 283; Dopamu 1977: 145. On women and witchcraft, see further, e.g., Lucas 1948: 284; Prince 1964: 89; Bascom 1969a: 95; Maclean 1971: 41; Olukunle 1979: 100, 192; Eades 1980: 125. 86 Dopamu 1977: 31, 146; Eades 1980: 125; Osunwole n.d.: 5. 87 Simpson 1980: 81; Osunwole n.d.: 4. 88 Lucas 1948: 284; Maclean 1971: 42; Olukunle 1979: 100, 139.

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Moreover, witches are believed to have an insatiable appetite for sex and a great craving for human ﬂesh and blood.89 Witches attack ethereal bodies or souls, and when somebody is attacked that person’s physical body is weakened or destroyed.90 Such attacks are not necessarily caused by personal enmity against the victims, but witches may harm others simply because they are full of hatred and express their hatred by causing misfortune and death.91 A great variety of diseases, including serious ones, and deaths can be occasioned by witchcraft. In 1960, Morton-Williams reported that witchcraft was believed to be the most frequent cause of death,92 and about three decades later S.A. Osunwole concluded that nearly all kinds of misfortune may be associated with the activities of witches.93 According to Awolalu, witchcraft is considered the most important factor that causes the abnormal to happen and brings about disharmony in society.94 Similarly, Maclean and Oladapo refer to witchcraft as a prime cause of illness and disaster.95 When the following symptoms appear, attacks of witches are often suspected: ‘bad dreams (especially of falling or being chased), sleeplessness, restlessness, worries, sterility, stomach pains, headache, and skin sores’.96 However, witchcraft is a cause of many types of symptoms, and any of those listed in this quotation may also be the result of some other cause. Besides, it must not be forgotten that most diseases have multiple causes.97 Illnesses that are particularly likely to be attributed to witchcraft are those that in the west would often be referred to as ‘psychosomatic’. Likewise, psychiatric illnesses and problems are frequently associated with the machinations of witches. Hence aﬄictions such as chronic ulcers, skin diseases, sterility, impotence and insanity easily raise suspicions of witchcraft.98 P.A. Dopamu

89 Bascom 1969a: 95; Maclean 1971: 43; Eades 1980: 125. For more examples of the characteristics and alleged abilities of witches, see Olukunle 1979: 186 and Simpson 1980: 75 ﬀ. 90 Olukunle 1979: 172; Adeniyi 1984: 67. 91 Morton-Williams 1960: 36. 92 Ibid., 35. 93 Osunwole n.d.: 8. 94 Awolalu 1970: 29. 95 Maclean 1971: 43; Oladapo 1984: 191. See further, e.g., Lucas 1948: 284; Leighton et al. 1963: 38, 148; Awolalu 1979: 87. 96 Leighton et al. 1963: 104. 97 Simpson 1980: 108. 98 See, e.g., Prince 1964: 92 f., 96 f.; Maclean 1971: 41; Simpson 1980: 99 f., 108.

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stresses the signiﬁcance of serious or protracted illnesses that are perilous and extraordinary, or unusual maladies that bring wonderment and bewilderment.99 Aﬄictions that are diﬃcult or impossible to diagnose, like unusual blindness, are often in the category of witchcraft causation too.100 Furthermore, witchcraft can aggravate or intensify diseases caused by non-human factors and can spoil the power of medicine.101 Illnesses that defy a simple or normal therapy, as well as serious aﬄictions in general, are readily interpreted within the causative framework of witchcraft.102 Likewise, diseases that strike suddenly or violently are easily referred to this framework.103 Other aﬄictions that may be found in this interpretative context are rheumatism, epilepsy, elephantiasis, malformation, retardation, leprosy, measles and smallpox.104 The possibility of witchcraft is almost always considered when men are impotent, women barren and when there are delayed or prolonged pregnancies or other problems with the reproductive system.105 As a woman grows old, and still has not become pregnant, she may even be suspected of being a witch herself. In such a case she is considered to be ‘so imbued with evil witchcraft power that her own body is infected’.106 Witches can destroy their victims ‘in stages’ until, ultimately, death occurs.107 While deaths of old people are usually seen as natural, untimely as well as sudden deaths are often regarded as consequences of witchcraft.108 In particular, the death of children brings the issue of witchcraft to the fore.109 Like Sukuma, Yoruba formerly tried witches by ordeals, and those who were found guilty could be punished by death. For example,

99

Dopamu 1977: 392. Oladapo 1984: 110; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 101 Prince 1964: 91 f. 102 Olukunle 1979: 126 f.; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 103 Olukunle 1979: 140; Oladapo 1984: 110. 104 Simpson 1980: 108; Oladapo 1984: 110; Osunwole n.d.: 8. The case of epidemic diseases like smallpox is particularly noteworthy because, as shown in chapter 6, such diseases have often been associated with the role of divinities like Shopona. This may indicate an important change, which will be discussed further later on. It should be remarked here, however, that a deity like Shopona may also be thought of as acting through witches on earth. See also Maclean 1976: 306. 105 Olukunle 1979: 127; Wolﬀ 1979: 129; Adeniyi 1984: 32. 106 Wolﬀ 1979: 126. 107 Olukunle 1979: 172. 108 Table n.d.b: 154; Adeniyi 1984: 32. 109 Morton-Williams 1960: 35; Olukunle 1979: 211. 100

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an accused person could be given something poisonous to drink. It seems, however, that Yoruba ‘witches’ were rarely brought to trial; more often, they were executed secretly by certain cults.110 Oro and Egungun, which were presented in chapter six, were such cults that formerly executed witches, for instance by hanging. Probably, witches were considered too dangerous to be apprehended by ‘secular’ authorities. Some people believed that the bull-roarers of the Oyo society were enough to destroy witches.111 Under special circumstances, for example when pestilence was threatening the inhabitants of a town, oro rites could be performed in order to summon the ancestors collectively and to drive away witchcraft from the town. Hence the oro cult was believed to cleanse a town from witchcraft.112 Apparently, it has occurred among the Yoruba, as among the Sukuma and other ethnic groups, that persons accused of witchcraft have been lynched by furious people. Other means of punishing Yoruba witches are whipping, heavy ﬁnes or expulsion from their communities.113 Unlike oro, gelede is a society in which witches have been propitiated by sacriﬁce rather than executed. Diseases and other misfortunes attributed to witchcraft are one important reason why people have joined gelede. More recently, witchﬁnding cults and Aladura churches have become signiﬁcant institutions for protection against witchcraft.114 In addition to seeking the assistance of such institutions, people protect themselves by using amulets and performing certain rites. If necessary, sacriﬁces to witches can be made. Moreover, diviners and healers may provide ‘medicines’ for protection; and some of them, who are particularly skilled in so-called magic, are believed to be capable of depriving witches of their special power.115 Under normal circumstances, ancestors eﬀectively guard their descendants against attacks from witches.116 Although old women form the majority of witchcraft suspects, any person with anti-social behaviour may be suspected. It seems that polygamous homes provide a particularly fertile ground for witchcraft accusations, which are often made against co-wives or wives of other 110 111 112 113 114 115 116

Lucas 1948: 284; Bascom 1969a: 40. Bascom 1969a: 93 f.; Olukunle 1979: 177; Simpson 1980: 53. Morton-Williams 1960: 37; Morton-Williams 1964: 247; Simpson 1980: 53. Lucas 1948: 284; Olukunle 1979: 177. Prince 1964: 109; Bascom 1969a: 95; Eades 1980: 125. Maclean 1971: 43; Eades 1980: 125; Simpson 1980: 80. Awolalu 1970: 27.

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men in a compound.117 According to Eades, such accusations ‘are clearly related to the tensions arising from polygyny and the wife’s subordination to more senior wives in the husband’s compound’.118 To accuse a rival or an opponent of witchcraft may be an easy way of stigmatizing her (or him). Above all, witches attack kinspeople and neighbours, but they are also able to operate beyond the local level.119 Sorcery By deﬁnition osho (sorcery) is something evil and destructive, but a person who at one time uses ‘magical’ techniques in order to harm others may at another time use such techniques for good purposes. The term oloogun may be employed with reference to a ‘herbalist’ as well as to a ‘sorcerer’, although there is often a tendency to reserve this term for the latter category and use the concept onishegun for the former. Like a herbalist, a priest or babalawo may utilize his power and knowledge of, among other things, incantations for evil purposes.120 Oogun, which is frequently translated ‘medicine’ or ‘magic’, is a mysterious or supranormal power in medicines that derives ultimately from God and that can be used by humans for good or evil ends. As is the case with oloogun, however, the term oogun is usually employed in the bad sense. A special power inherent in, for instance, names and in the spoken word is also recognized. Sorcerers are known to utilize powers such as these but, like witches, they may derive their malevolent forces from other sources too, the exact nature of which is not known to outsiders. In sorcery, furthermore, acts and expressions are combined with the force of will or thought. Particularly sorcery that operates from a distance should be backed by willpower.121 Yoruba techniques or methods of sorcery follow principles familiar from, for instance, previous Sukuma examples in this chapter, and need not be treated in great detail here. Yet some speciﬁc Yoruba cases may be oﬀered. Some cult groups involve their deities 117

Olukunle 1979: 129; Eades 1980: 125; Osunwole n.d.: 10. Eades 1925: 125. 119 Olukunle 1979: 130; Osunwole n.d.: 10 f. 120 Dopamu 1977: 31, 40; Wolﬀ 1979: 128; Oladapo 1984: 17; OgunsakinFabarebo 1998: 9. 121 Dopamu 1977: 34 ﬀ., 42, 500, 551, 579 f., 592 f.; Wolﬀ 1979: 127. Cf. Farrow 1926: 116; Lucas 1948: 269, 276; Ayoade 1979: 50 ﬀ. 118

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in attempts to injure enemies. In particular, followers of Shopona appeal to him and use his emblem, a carved wooden ﬁgure, which is prepared and placed according to special instructions, in order to inﬂict mental illnesses.122 Names of certain divinities, like Orunmila (Ifa) and Eshu, appear often in incantations, which indicate the power that speciﬁc ingredients possess when they are combined, and which may be used in connection with certain acts of sorcery. In principle, incantations are part of the Ifa corpus and are, therefore, the esoteric knowledge of healers.123 Now, healers are not normally expected to indulge in acts of sorcery. As among other peoples studied in this book, it may occur, although it is usually believed to be rare.124 Like healers, members of societies such as ogboni and oro are not supposed to use their powers for anti-social ends, even though it may happen. For example, the symbols of the ogboni society, which are metal images of human ﬁgures known as edon, have been utilized in acts of sorcery. In the past, these cultic objects were kept secret from the eyes of the uninitiated, and they were supposed to be used with the sanction of the whole ogboni society rather than capriciously by individual members. If sacrosanct objects such as edon, dresses of egungun or oro bull-roarers are touched by uninitiated people, some believe that serious diseases or even death may follow.125 In the 1920s, Farrow concluded that the most terrible exercise of the power of oogun was apeta, which he called ‘invocation-shooting’.126 This type of sorcery was subsequently described by, among others, Lucas and Dopamu.127 A sorcerer who aims at killing somebody by using apeta makes a mud image of the intended victim, which is treated symbolically or ‘magically’. At night the sorcerer sets this image up, calls the name of the foe three times and then shoots at the ﬁgure with a miniature bow and arrows. The wounds or diseases that follow may soon bring the life of the victim to an end,

122

Simpson 1980: 37. See also, e.g., Ogunsakin-Fabarebo 1998. Dopamu 1977: 114; Buckley 1985a: 146, 159. Cf. Olukoju 1997. 124 Olukunle 1979: 108. Cf. S. Johnson 1921: 121. The ‘double’ capacity of Yoruba healers is reﬂected, for instance, in the double meaning of the word oloogun, as indicated above. For some more information on the various categories and skills of healers among the Yoruba, see Table n.d.b.: 200; Maclean 1966: 132; Braito & Asuni 1979: 188; Wolﬀ 1979: 127 ﬀ.; Oladapo 1984: 17 f. 125 Lucas 1948: 278; Awolalu & Dopamu 1979: 226, 229. 126 Literally, apeta means ‘call and shoot’ (Dopamu 1977: 189). 127 Lucas 1948: 272; Dopamu 1977: 189. 123

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unless eﬀective countermeasures can be applied.128 Apeta exempliﬁes some of the important symbolic aspects of Yoruba sorcery, such as the signiﬁcance of names, numbers and colours. To know a person’s name is, in a sense, to have some power over that person. The power of names and the utterance of other words of power form a large and important part of Yoruba sorcery and medicine.129 The name of the intended victim of apeta is called three times because three is one of the numbers that is believed to have a mysterious power.130 The fact that the mud image is set up at night can be related to the signiﬁcance of black as a symbol of diseases, death and evil in general.131 The Yoruba practice of sorcery very often involves the use of human body parts like skulls and bones. Substances from victims, such as hair and clothing, as well as things like footprints and shadows, are also frequently utilized or ‘treated’ in acts of sorcery. Sometimes a sorcerer needs to be in close contact with a victim, while other techniques work from a distance.132 Dopamu’s voluminous thesis shows elaborately what an enormous variety of techniques and methods there are in Yoruba sorcery. As emphasized by Dopamu, the ways by which sorcery can be employed ‘cannot be exhausted’— it may be used to procure virtually any end that cannot be achieved by other means.133 Although sorcery is an activity, based on principles such as similarity, contagion, contact and transferability, that aims at a kind of distillation of certain inner forces or essences, it must not be seen as an alternative to religious and natural practices. As among other peoples studied here, religious measures, practices of sorcery and the use of herbal medicines are largely intertwined among the Yoruba.134 When medicines are prepared, analogical and other ways of thinking are not incompatible with empirical testing;

128 Many other examples of sorcery techniques among the Yoruba are found in, for instance, Lucas 1948: chapter 14 and Dopamu 1977: passim. 129 Prince 1964: 90; Dopamu 1977: 42, 551, 559 f.; Ayoade 1979: 51, 54. 130 Dopamu 1977: 517. According to Dopamu (ibid.), the following numbers are also believed to have a special power and appear frequently in acts of sorcery: 1, 7, 9, 10, 200, 201, 1000 and 2000. 131 For some information on the symbolism of the basic colours black, red and white, see Dopamu 1977: 527 ﬀ. and Buckley 1985a: chapters 3–5. 132 Lucas 1948: 274, 277 f.; Prince 1974: 89 f.; Dopamu 1977: 215. 133 Dopamu 1977: 228, 289. See also, e.g., Ogunsakin-Fabarebo 1998. 134 Verger 1971: 50 ﬀ.; Dopamu 1977: 67, 85; Ayoade 1979: 50 f., 54.

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and a sorcerer may well combine his (or her) ‘magical’ preparations with ‘natural’ measures, like attempts to put poison in the food of the victim.135 Like witchcraft, sorcery can be the source of a great variety of diseases and deaths. Sorcery may be the cause of almost any aﬄiction, and it is frequently held that dangerous types of sorcery, like apeta, have occasioned the death of many people.136 Barrenness and other problems with the reproductive system as well as markedly psychosomatic aﬄictions, like skin and stomach troubles, seem to be somewhat less associated with sorcery than with witchcraft.137 Like witchcraft, however, sorcery is very often referred to in cases of psychiatric diseases.138 The material from Prince’s study of more than 100 cases diagnosed by Yoruba healers at indigenous treatment centres shows that sorcery and witchcraft are believed to be a much more common cause of psychiatric illnesses than are religious and natural causes.139 In addition to inﬂicting mental maladies, acts of sorcery may cause people to commit suicide. Generally, sudden and unexpected, or violent, deaths and diseases are often attributed to sorcery.140 Perhaps the most striking general characteristic of illnesses associated with sorcery is that they tend to be serious.141 The following list, extracted from various sources, provides some examples of such aﬄictions: cancer, rheumatism, elephantiasis, blindness and other eye problems, tuberculosis, smallpox, measles, leprosy, epilepsy and inability to urinate.142 As is the case with witchcraft, sorcery can worsen maladies that originally were due to other causes.143 In such cases a modern biomedical treatment is often combined with consultations of indigenous healers, since illnesses caused by sorcery and witchcraft, many believe, belong to a category of aﬄictions that cannot be cured by modern medicine. A combination of diﬀerent types of

135

Awolalu 1970: 29 f.; Buckley 1985a: 160 f. Leighton et al. 1963: 38, 148; Dopamu 1977: 196; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 137 For some examples, see Dopamu 1977: 207; Oladapo 1984: 140; Simpson 1980: 108; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 138 See, e.g., Dopamu 1977: 166 ﬀ.; Simpson 1980: 107; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 139 Prince 1964: 96. 140 Awolalu 1970: 25, 30; Oladapo 1984: 110. 141 Dopamu 1977: 392; Oladapo 1984: 110; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 142 Farrow 1926: 119; Lucas 1948: 277; Awolalu 1970: 30; Dopamu 1977: 207, 215; Simpson 1980: 107 f.; Oladapo 1984: 110; Osunwole n.d.: 8. 143 Dopamu 1977: 392. 136

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treatment is, on the whole, very common, partly because it is usually assumed that most diseases, as well as other types of misfortune, have multiple causes.144 For protection against acts of sorcery a great variety of charms are available. The use of charms or amulets in order to upset evil forces, as well as for other reasons, is ubiquitous in Yorubaland.145 Amulets are usually obtained from healers or diviners, and some are made with the assistance of divinities, thus becoming, as it were, storage cells for some of the power of deities.146 If a person is too powerfully guarded, because of the use of amulets, sorcerous countermeasures and divine assistance, a sorcerer may instead try to strike down the victim’s son.147 In principle, sorcery can be practised by anybody. One reason why there are fewer women than men among sorcerers, as well as among healers, is that menstruation is believed to destroy the power of medicines.148 The practice of sorcery reﬂects jealousies and hostilities in society. It appears that conﬂicts and quarrels concerning property and relations between the sexes give rise to most acts of sorcery. As a rule, the persons involved are relatives or neighbours who have been in close contact with each other. However, sorcery is not normally used against members in a person’s nuclear family. Sorcery is often seen as a weapon of the weak against the strong, of the poor against the rich or of the unfavoured against the favoured, but it may also work in the reverse direction.149 Formerly, alleged sorcerers ran the same risk as people accused of being witches; they could be executed by societies such as oro and egungun.150

144

Simpson 1980: 108 f., 113, 130 f. A special case of aﬄiction caused by sorcery was reported by Farrow (1925: 125), who held that a sorcerer can give birth to and stimulate the growth of small ‘snakes’ and ‘insects’ inside the body of a foe which occasion various diseases. This may be compared to the work by Buckley (1985a: 32 f.), who says that such entities are placed by God within the body from birth, and that it is natural reasons, such as too much sweet food, sexual activity or alcohol, rather than human or suprahuman agents, that cause these entities to become ‘too strong’ or ‘powerful’ in the body and therefore give rise to maladies. See also the appendix. 145 Lucas 1948: 279; Simpson 1980: 85. 146 Morton-Williams 1964: 249 f.; Simpson 1980: 85. For some examples of various types of charm, see Lucas 1948: 279 ﬀ. and Simpson 1980: 85. 147 Morton-Williams 1960: 36. 148 Buckley 1985a: 147. 149 Prince 1964: 89; Dopamu 1977: 270, 272, 284. 150 Bascom 1969a: 93 f.

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Among the Yoruba, the curse (epe) is thought of as a powerful means of inﬂicting illness or even death.151 However, scholars vary somewhat in their assessment of how important it is. For instance, Prince reports that curses are among the commonest causes of psychiatric disorder,152 while Simpson says that curses are rare.153 Apparently, their signiﬁcance varies a great deal from one Yoruba group to another.154 In areas where curses are uttered, there tends to be a strong fear of their harmful eﬀects. Like acts of sorcery, methods of cursing are employed mainly by men, particularly older men, and are frequently associated with quarrels over women or land.155 According to Simpson, some healers can be paid to curse malefactors.156 A curse is an emphatic utterance, or command, made in the presence of the victim, in which the operator of the curse expresses which illness or other misfortune should befall the victim.157 Yoruba curses are combined with the use of sorcerous ‘medicines’, usually contained in some animal horn, and a person who curses somebody may lick the medicines before uttering the curse. If a victim is powerfully defended, for instance because of divine protection or the use of charms, the intended eﬀect can be delayed or there may be no eﬀect at all.158 There is some evidence that, without being ‘strengthened’ by a proper curse, an evil wish may be transmitted by a mere look. Also, a quarrel can in itself have harmful eﬀects. For example, it may cause complications in connection with deliveries. In such cases confessions are important in order to countercheck the harmful eﬀects of quarrelling.159 The beneﬁcial counterparts of curses are blessings.160 The method of blessing, ape, may be used for healing and other constructive purposes. For instance, it can

151

Table n.d.b.: 155; Buckley 1985a: 142. Prince 1964: 91. 153 Simpson 1980: 82. 154 See, e.g., Lucas 1948: 276 and Dopamu 1977: 124. 155 Prince 1964: 91; Dopamu 1977: 236; Buckley 1985a: 141. 156 Simpson 1980: 82. Like Maasai healers, iloibonok among others, Yoruba people who can curse are also able to tell what may happen in the future (Buckley 1985a: 142a: 142 f.). 157 Prince 1964: 91; Dopamu 1977: 236; Simpson 1980: 82. 158 Prince 1964: 91; Simpson 1980: 84; Buckley 1985a: 143. For detailed information on the preparation of medicines used in combination with curses, see Lucas 1948: 276 and Dopamu 1977: 230, 233 ﬀ., 245. 159 Table n.d.b.: 22; Dopamu 1977: 593. 160 Cf. Buckley (1985a: 144) who speaks about ‘prayers’. 152

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contribute to stopping the ﬂowing of blood after an accident. Ape may also be used by a healer when he discharges a patient who has been mentally ill.161 There is much evidence showing that, as among the Sukuma and Kongo, witchcraft, sorcery and curses are still prevalent problems among the Yoruba, and several sources even indicate that these problems have increased. Old sources such as the archival material of the Church Missionary Society and Johnson (1899) remarkably seldom mention these phenomena. Whereas much is said about the importance of the divinities, orisha, very little is reported about witches and sorcerers. Since the old Christian missionaries as a rule were highly critical of Yoruba ‘heathenism’, it does not seem likely that they would have abstained deliberately from writing about witchery had it been a very important problem. It is more likely that they would have tended to exaggerate its importance in an attempt to blacken the ‘pagan’ religion. Writing on witchcraft, sorcery and curses as causes of illness in the 1960s, Prince reported that ‘many informants . . . emphasized that these factors were on the increase’ and that healers unanimously agreed that the practice of sorcery was ‘extremely common’.162 Dopamu asserts that ‘the Yoruba believe they can achieve anything by their magic’, which they use from the womb to the grave.163 Among others, Dopamu and Oladapo agree that the signiﬁcance of witchery has increased in recent decades.164 As far as the belief in and practice of witchery is concerned, several scholars conclude that there are no major diﬀerences between highly educated people and people with low education or between city-dwellers and villagers.165 While the victims of witchery used to be conﬁned to relatives and neighbours within compounds and villages, they are now increasingly found beyond such conﬁnes.166 Correspondingly, there is an enlargement of scale in terms of which people are accused of practising sorcery

161

Dopamu 1977: 229 f.; Simpson 1980: 82; Buckley 1985a: 144. Prince 1964: 89. 163 Dopamu 1977: 263, 288. 164 Ibid., vii; Olukunle 1979. See also, e.g., Leighton et al. 1963: 38; Adeniyi 1984: 32; and Oladapo 1984: 191, 196. Cf. Simpson 1980: 110. 165 See, e.g., Olukunle 1979: 221, 223, 237; Eades 1980: 125; Simpson 1980: 124, 134 f. 166 Olukunle 1979: 229; Osunwole n.d.: 11. 162

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and, in particular, witchcraft. It is still primarily old women who may be accused of being witches, but younger women and even men are increasingly being suspected.167 In chapter nine some of the possible reasons for the change and increase of witchery problems will be discussed.

167

Olukunle 1979: 231; Simpson 1980: 75.

CHAPTER NINE

FACTORS OF CONTINUITY AND CHANGE Using witchcraft . . . for sociological diagnosis is useful so long as one does not reduce African medicine to the expression and palliation of social tensions.1 En Afrique postcoloniale, le rapport entre sorcellerie et politique se renouvelle sans cesse, pas seulement sur le plan local, mais aussi au niveau national et même international.2

Introduction The decline of belief in spiritual beings and the subsequent increase of living humans as agents of disease, which have been exempliﬁed in previous chapters, have been observed in many other parts of Africa too. For instance, in a collected volume on witchery, the editors Middleton and Winter point out that ‘it is commonly held by people in a large number of African societies that the practice of secret maleﬁcent acts is on the increase’.3 Concerning the Ndembu, an agricultural Bantu people in northern Zambia, Victor Turner concludes that illnesses and other types of misfortune no longer bind a group of people together in veneration of ancestors sanctioning the moral order. Since diseases are increasingly attributed to witchery, which in the past caused death only, misfortune now tends to break a group instead. In a study of another agricultural people, the Cokwe or Chokwe in south-western Zaire, P. Stanley Yoder similarly remarks that the importance of redressive rituals concerned with ancestors has diminished and that they are far less frequently invoked now than before.4

1 2 3 4

Feierman 1985: 106. Geschiere 1996: 82. Middleton & Winter 1963: 20. Yoder 1981: 242.

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Yet another example of the increased signiﬁcance of religious disease causation and the increased importance of human agents is found in Barnes-Dean’s work on the agro-pastoral Lugbara in western Uganda. Barnes-Dean concludes that, previously, most maladies among the Lugbara were said to be sent by patrilineal ancestors. Only when this possibility was discounted did people turn to seek the cause of illness in witchery practices. Nowadays, however, such practices are a predominant feature of the Lugbara medical system.5 More recently, scholars such as Stadler, Geschiere and Colson have reported from various parts of Africa about a proliferation of witchery problems.6 Their examples, and many others, clearly support the above-mentioned conclusions drawn by Middleton and Winter.7 On a rapidly increasing scale, witchery reproduces itself hand-in-hand with modern changes.8 According to Geschiere, the rampant anxiety about witchery among Africans in many parts of the continent now triggers ‘a desperate search for new protections to contain novel and therefore all the more frightening witchcraft threats’.9 In addition to the shift from religious to human agents of disease, an increased signiﬁcance for the category of natural causation has been observed in many parts of Africa too. In this book both of these changes have been exempliﬁed particularly in the chapters regarding the Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba peoples. In a more general discussion, Whyte remarks that individualistic treatment of persons by medicines—both ‘African’ and ‘western’—seem to be gaining ground. This change, she argues, is one of the reasons for the shift in anthropological research on African misfortune from religion to medicine.10 Even though this chapter, like the preceding ones, will not focus primarily on this aspect of change, but rather on some possible causes for the gradual shift from religious to—in a wide sense—social causation of illness, it is important to bear in mind.

5

Barnes-Dean 1986: 344, 351. Stadler 1996: 87; Geschiere 1997: 7, 21; Colson 2000: 334 f. See also, e.g., Comaroﬀ 1993; Whyte 1997; Douglas 1999; Geschiere 2000. In some areas AIDS has contributed strongly to the fear of witchery. See e.g., Yamba 1997; Colson 2000: 353. 7 See further, e.g., Westerlund 1980: 143 ﬀ., 149 ﬀ.; Barbee 1986: 77; Chavunduka 1986: 69; Multhaupt 1987: 455; Swantz 1989: 286. 8 Ciekawy & Geschiere 1998: 3. 9 Geschiere 1997: 216. 10 Whyte 1989: 294. 6

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Particularly since the early 1990s, the increasing problems of witchery has also caused a strongly renewed scholarly interest in this issue. In their introduction to the collective volume Modernity and Its Malcontents: Ritual and Power in Postcolonial Africa, the Comaroﬀs stress that, despite the predictions of modernization theory and historical materialism, the world has not been reduced to sameness and that ‘there are, in short, many modernities’.11 In studies of what Geschiere refers to as the ‘modernity of witchcraft’,12 the old functionalist approach, focusing on order and internal integration, and the tendency to study witchery in local contexts are too limited. There is clearly a need for a wider scope that takes into consideration broader socio-economic and political processes and not only the micro-politics of, among other things, kinship, gender relations and morality.13 Hence, the discussion in this chapter will be guided by such an ambition. Modern Inﬂuences Thanks to the missionary eﬀorts of Christians and Muslims, as well as other new factors of change, the adherence to indigenous African religions was largely weakened during the period studied in this book. Although the rapid expansion of Christianity and Islam in Africa is not the object of study here, it should be noted that this expansion has been more successful among the Sukuma and, in particular, the Kongo and Yoruba than among the hunting-gathering San and pastoral Maasai. Christian and Muslim leaders have, sometimes relentlessly, fought against indigenous African beliefs and practices. To some extent the pre-Christian and pre-Islamic religions have managed to survive in altered forms within new religious contexts, particularly in Suﬁ Islam and in indigenous or African-initiated churches (AICs). There are several such churches among the Yoruba and Kongo. Suﬁsm is well represented in Yorubaland but only as tiny minorities among the other peoples studied here. Whereas leaders

11

Comaroﬀ 1993: xi. Geschiere’s monograph with this title (Geschiere 1997) is an important contribution to the study of politics in Africa and exempliﬁes that modernization does not exclude cultural heterogeneity. 13 Ciekawy & Geschiere 1998: 1. For a study of older and too limited approaches to the study of witchery in Africa, see Multhaupt 1990. 12

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and other adherents of AICs and Suﬁ groups have handled witchery, more orthodox Christians and Muslims have tried, if largely unsuccessfully, to root out these phenomena. Among charismatic Christians, for instance in Pentecostal churches, who strongly believe in the existence of the Devil and evil spirits, there may also be ways of dealing with problems of witchery which are similar to those found in AICs.14 The Dutch Reformed Church, which has been in the forefront of the ﬁght against San beliefs and rituals, has reported some revivals.15 By and large, however, the San have a reputation for being quite resistant to missionary inﬂuence.16 In Maasailand Christians, as well as Muslims, have had even less sway over people, and only a few per cent of the Maasai have converted to the new religions. Thus, it is easy to ﬁnd many Maasai settlements without a single Christian or Muslim.17 Nowadays a sizeable number—according to one recent estimate 12 per cent18—of the Sukuma are Christians, although in general Sukuma people have been more hesitant to convert than have, for instance, the Kongo.19 In Sukumaland, as elsewhere, missionaries and African priests—as well as political leaders, especially in the upper echelons—have fought against pre-Christian beliefs and practices.20 Among the Kongo this combat has existed for more than 500 years, since the start of the Catholic Christian mission in the late ﬁfteenth century.21 As of the late nineteenth century, the religious struggle intensiﬁed and missionaries increasingly destroyed nkisi objects or brought them to western museums. In the early 2000s little remains of the mediating hierarchy of nkisi spirits and ancestors.22 Among the Yoruba, both Christianity and Islam have contributed to undermining

14 For an example of a study of Pentecostalism and occult forces, see Meyer 1998. See also, e.g., Ciekawy & Geschiere 1998: 8 and Colson 2000: 334. 15 Katz 1982: 253 f. 16 See, e.g., Marshall 1962: 221; Barnard 1978: 78. 17 Hauge 1971:1; Voshaar 1979: 269 ﬀ. See also, e.g., Donovan 1982: 175–199. 18 Wijsen & Tanner 2000: 10. 19 No precise ﬁgures can be given, since during the latest decades no oﬃcial statistics on religious or ethnic aﬃliations has been provided. Information about such aﬃliations is a politically sensitive issue. Therefore, it is usually not included in the most recent census reports from African countries. 20 See further, e.g., Reid 1969: 125–157. 21 For a detailed historical study of culture confrontation in the Lower Congo area, see Axelson 1970. 22 Mahaniah 1982: 169 f.; MacGaﬀey 1986: 246. For some information on indigenous churches and witchery eradication movements among the Kongo, see e.g. Mahaniah 1982: 131–160.

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belief in the orisha. As in other areas, new schools run by Christian and Muslim organizations, as well as by colonial and post-colonial governments, have played an important part in challenging indigenous African religions.23 Besides, more secular-oriented modern education and health care have contributed largely to challenging African indigenous religions and concepts of disease causation. The spread of bio-medical ideas and practices is one of the factors that have furthered the importance of non-religious and especially natural etiologies and therapies. Modern external inﬂuences, religious as well as non-religious, increase the pluralism that already existed. Thus, in principle, these inﬂuences do not add anything new. For instance, Islamic and Christian ideas of jinns or evil spirits ﬁt into the category of religious causation, while biomedicine with its secular basis is narrowly concerned with the category of natural and biological causation. As a rule, neither Christian and Islamic nor biomedical disease etiologies pay much regard to social aspects, even though indigenous African ideas of human causation may survive within new religious frameworks. As stressed by Feierman, corporeal individualism, which is ‘cultural, not natural or objective’, pervades biomedical knowledge.24 While the plural and ﬂexible character of African medical systems apparently is one of the reasons for the great adaptability to biomedical as well as to new religiously based etiologies and treatments, it seems that the inﬂuence of biomedicine tends to decrease the indigenous pluralism or multidimensionality in these ﬁelds. It is interesting to compare here the British historian Terence Ranger’s more general discussion on religion, development and identity in Africa, in which he convincingly challenges the organic model of society and religion.25 Before the advent of modern colonialism, there was not, in his view, an organic collectivity but a creative and resilient pluralism. Commenting on the current situation, he argues that ‘the real identity crisis in Africa is not found in changes from a single traditional “frozen” identity to a bewildering pluralism. The 23 See further, e.g., Simpson 1980: 109 f.; Apter 1993: 115. For an interesting study of the survival among adherents of the indigenous Yoruba religion, as well as among many Christians and Muslims, of certain festivals and rituals associated with the sacred kingship traditions in the Ondo area, which constitute a kind of local civil religion, see Olupona 1990. 24 Feierman 1985: 109. 25 Ranger 1987.

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real identity crisis is exactly the other way round. It is produced by the change from a creative pluralism to single frozen identities.’26 One may clarify by stressing that there have been attempts, by political and religious hierarchies, to create new identities. In practice, however, this has not lead to the disappearance of the creative and resilient pluralism. San and Maasai The enlarged signiﬁcance of natural causation, ‘herbalists’ and ‘secular medicines’, or what Feierman calls ‘commoditized popular healing’,27 can partly be seen as an aspect of a wider process of secularization and individualization.28 Paradoxically, the increased weight of social causation, particularly in terms of witchery, may also be understood as a part of this process. Among hunting-gathering San and pastoralist Maasai, who have experienced much less of this increase compared to other peoples studied in this book, there has been a stronger ‘resistance’ to modern inﬂuences derived primarily from the west. In particular, the pastoralist Maasai have become well known because of their ‘conservatism’. P.H. Gulliver, among others, points out that in their severe environment there is relatively little scope for experiments with new possibilities,29 while Berg-Schlosser argues that the ‘conservatism’ of the Maasai can be attributed to neither ecological conditions nor a lack of contact with the outside world. He maintains, further, that it has been of relatively little importance whether attempts to initiate signiﬁcant changes in their lives have been made by colonialists, Christian missions or post-colonial governments of Kenya and Tanzania. In Berg-Schosser’s view, the Maasai mode of living clearly implies a certain ‘cultural preference’.30 Whatever the reasons for the alleged ‘conservatism’ of huntinggathering San and pastoralist Maasai may be, and a detailed discussion of this issue on a general level is beyond the scope of this

26

Ibid., 156. Feierman 1985: 75. See also, e.g., Oyebola 1981: 87. 28 Chavunduka and Last (1986: 263) argue that the most obvious reason for the pre-eminence of herbalism in new associations of healers is the legal restraints against practising anything that might be construed as sorcery. 29 Gulliver 1969: 238 ﬀ. 30 Berg-Schlosser 1984: 157. 27

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study,31 those San and Maasai whose mode of living has been more radically changed need to be brought into the discussion about possible factors of continuity and change. As pointed out in chapter seven, among San and Maasai, including Nharo and Arusha, respectively, who have been subject to particularly far-reaching socio-economic and other forms of upheaval, human causes of disease have become increasingly important. It is primarily among such groups that the supranormal powers associated with the healing properties of San healers and Maasai iloibonok are more and more being used in the destructive context of witchery. While the Arusha transfer from a semi-nomadic pastoral to a sedentary agricultural mode of living occurred about 200 years ago, the Nharo since the nineteenth century gradually through contact with black and white settler groups have undergone even more radical socio-economic changes. Nharo farmers now live in a state of economic dependence on white and black farmers. According to Guenther, it is the intense and pervasive social conﬂict prevailing among Nharo farmers that has created a fertile ground for the introduction of Bantu-derived witchery; and it is due to the permanent oppression and deprivation that their religion has become less world-removed and disengaged.32 Likewise, the marked rise of trance dances is caused mainly by the increased existential stress, and trance dancers have become professionalized authority ﬁgures. Despite such important changes, Guenther remarked in 1986 that the band, the fundamental structure of Nharo social organization, was still basically intact. This, he argued, is because of its ﬂexible or ﬂuid character; the necessity to maintain band features such as sharing in an acculturative situation marked by poverty; and ﬁnally because Nharo cultural traditions have been maintained and even revitalized because of the activation and elaboration of religion.33 In an article from 1992, Guenther discusses the issue of why witchery in general is ‘not a Bushman thing’. His main answer is that by and large there has been little or no interpersonal conﬂict that could have formed a breeding ground for witchery suspicions, accusations 31 For some discussions of changes and lack of changes among the San, see Lee 1984: 129–145 and Katz 1982: 251 ﬀ. Cf. Barnard 1988: 217. 32 Guenther 1979: 103, 112, 118. 33 Guenther 1986: 288–295. See further Guenther 1999: chapter 8.

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and practices. For instance, there have been few, if any, tensions over rights to land and other property. Likewise, problems such as political rivalry, gender antagonism, conﬂicts between women in polygynous households and generational tensions, which tend to be common in witchery-ridden societies, have largely been absent from hunting-gathering San settings. Moreover, among groups like Kung, free vent has been given to anger and ill-will through talking, shouting, singing and dancing. The trance dance, which may serve partly as a kind of community healing, can be a particularly eﬀective ludic mechanism of conﬂict resolution. Another mechanism for open expressions of tensions is the joking relationship, which is a typical feature of San groups.34 Moreover, withdrawal is a common solution to conﬂicts. Among the Nharo, by contrast, the seeds have been sown for socio-economic inequality, gender tensions, conﬂicts over property and similar problems. Most Nharo now live in an incipient form of sedentary village society, with its rivalries, tensions and ressentiments. In this situation the notion that the two existential stress factors of disease and interpersonal conﬂicts, which have increased in tandem, are causally linked has become entrenched. Yet even Nharo farmers continue to categorize witchery problems as a ‘black custom’ and use Tswana concepts for designating such issues. By this exercise, according to Guenther, they can deﬂect tension and strife away from themselves and onto a neighbouring people who already have a ready-made, established witchery complex, thus lending more credence to their notion that it is ‘not a Bushman thing’.35 In previous chapters it has been shown that among the Maasai, natural causes and treatments of diseases were of great signiﬁcance even in pre-colonial times and that, in comparison to hunting-gathering San, living humans have been only slightly more important as agents of disease. There are certain structural resemblances between these two peoples that diﬀerentiate them from the Sukuma, Kongo, Yoruba as well as other sedentary and mainly agriculturalist peoples. While the San social structure is characterized by the band, the age-set system is a marked feature of the Maasai. However, in both cases there is relatively little of socio-economic inequality that 34

64 f. 35

Guenther 1992: 92 f. On joking relationships among the Kung, see Lee 1984: Guenther 1992: 99 ﬀ. See further, e.g., Smith et al. 2000: 86.

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could cause interpersonal conﬂicts and eventually lead to accusations of activities causing disease or other misfortunes. Neither San nor Maasai are politically centralized, though their societies have a certain gerontocratic character. The power of cursing controlled by Maasai elders, which may cause diseases, tends to have a socially stabilizing rather than destabilizing eﬀect. By and large the increasing types of conﬂict that characterize African village and urban contexts are rare in the semi-nomadic Maasai settlements. However, there is one particularly important diﬀerence between hunting-gathering San and pastoralist Maasai. While gender relations among the former are characterized by equality, or only quite limited inequality, such relations have a markedly patriarchal character among the latter. Thus, tensions and conﬂicts between men and women as well as between women in polygynous households are more common among the Maasai than among the San. It is true that there are a few examples of witchery used by, for instance, cowives. Yet, as shown previously, this is not a highly developed concept among the pastoralist Maasai, and it is not primarily associated with women. Nor is the possession of ‘evil eyes’ thought to be mainly a female phenomenon. However, the recent development of spirit possession among some Maasai women in Tanzania, which is manifested largely in various symptoms of disease, may partly be interpreted as a reﬂection of changes related to the gender inequality among the Maasai. Since possession is ‘foreign’, like the ‘black art’ of witchery among the Nharo, and consequently cannot be treated by iloibonok but requires a new kind of conceptualization and treatment, it is to some extent outside the control of Maasai men. As stressed by Hurskainen,36 Maasai women do have certain outlets for expressing suppressed aggressions. For example, women as a group are allowed to chase and beat their husbands for a special period of four days in a ritual arranged for a man preparing for the circumcision of his ﬁrst child. However, such institutionalized and controlled situations for channelling emotions oﬀer only temporary relief, and the men’s control awaits the women after the end of the ritual period. Spirit possession, by comparison, oﬀers women another kind of outlet, which may bring them more than temporary change. At least

36

Hurskainen 1989: 148.

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those Maasai women who do not only consult Bantu healers, but eventually become members of Christian communities, are no longer as much controlled by non-Maasai men as they used to be. They may take leadership roles themselves and learn new things like reading and writing. It would certainly be interesting to pursue the discussion of spirit possession among the Maasai, particularly in some feminist perspective. However, since it is not a case of certain living humans causing diseases of other human beings, such a detailed discussion is beyond the scope of this study. Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba Among the Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba, as well as among other sedentary agriculturalist peoples, there are a number of factors that seem to have contributed to the increase of living humans as agents of sickness and, simultaneously, to the decrease of the signiﬁcance of spiritual beings. Whereas the Sukuma used to live mainly in fairly small settlements before the post-colonial villagization process, the long-term eﬀects of which were limited too, the Kongo and Yoruba have a long history of village life, and in the case of the latter even of urban life. In recent decades the process of urbanization has accelerated, particularly in areas where the latter peoples live.37 Whereas indigenous religions have become weakened in the processes of villagization and urbanization, political struggles, economic rivalry and social stratiﬁcation have increased, apparently ‘fertilizing’ the ground for witchery ideas and practices.38 The retreat of suprahuman beings as agents of disease has created, as it were, a vacuum that has been ﬁlled, in part, by supranormal living humans. Previously, ambivalent spirits and divinities also lent important aid in the struggle against human evildoers. Partly, the increasingly ‘demonic’ use of a supranormal power, which in itself is ambivalent like the power of God and other suprahuman beings, is a result of the breakdown of political institutions that, among other things, had the task of controlling accusations of witchery. Some political changes, 37 The signiﬁcance of urbanization for the increase of witchery problems has been stressed by, among others, Olukunle 1979: 221. 38 The importance of economic factors is underlined by, e.g., Simpson 1980: 81. For a South African example of the signiﬁcance of villagization for the increase of witchery accusations, see Stadler 1996: 89.

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both at local and national levels, seem to have made people more unprotected than before.39 For instance, the early suppression of the nkisi system in Kongoland made it more secret and negative. It was not replaced by any comparable institution, and increasingly it became associated with kindoki.40 Among the Yoruba, associations such as oro, which partly had the role of controlling evildoers, gradually lost most of their inﬂuence or disappeared. Since chiefs used to have particularly important roles in the control of witchery, colonial and post-colonial reforms to change and abolish the institution of chieftainship made it more diﬃcult to handle problems that people believed were caused by witchery. If chiefs no longer took action against evildoers, people increasingly felt they had to do it themselves. The event in Sukumaland in 1962, when a series of killings occurred when women accused of witchery were beaten to death by crowds of men, is an extreme example of this.41 In his research report The Witch Murders in Sukumaland, R.E.S. Tanner ends by writing: The Sukuma fear and hatred of witchcraft which had been controlled traditionally by the chief and, in the colonial period, by administrative action, came to the surface as an expression of local tensions increased by the widening social and political distance between ruler and ruled.42

During the latest decades there have been many more cases of killings of, mainly elderly male and above all female, balogi. According to Tanner and Wijsen, these killings were partly connected to the emerging divisive inequalities caused by the substantial growth of the cotton industry in Sukumaland. Large sums of money from this cash crop production were controlled principally by older male landholders, although much of the cultivation and harvesting of their cotton was done by their dissatisﬁed women.43

39

See, e.g., Tanner 1967: 54 f. Mahaniah 1973: 244. 41 Tanner 1970. See also, e.g., Olukunle (1979: 269) who writes about similar events among the Yoruba. 42 Tanner 1970: 39 f. Cf. Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 136. Concerning the changing role of chiefs among the Kongo, see e.g. Janzen 1978: 24 and Mahaniah 1979: 225 ﬀ. Similarly, as indicated in chapter 1, among the Yoruba, kings and chiefs have lost much of their political power, although they may still play a signiﬁcant religious and cultural role. 43 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 135 ﬀ. 40

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As remarked by Multhaupt,44 the colonial attempts to uproot witchery were one of the means to legitimize colonialism. Accounts of witchery could be used to stress the superiority of western rationality and civilization. In more recent decades the political ﬁght against ideas and practices of witchery has been seen as an important part of the process of modernization. The colonial ban on the poison ordeal had quite far-reaching consequences. Many people viewed this measure as an attempt to protect evildoers against retaliation by their innocent victims.45 Deprived largely of its normal cultural control by colonial interferences, witchery became a disruptive and dangerously anti-social force. The use of protective medicines, another important means of witchcraft control, also came under attack from colonial and post-colonial political leaders—as well as from missionaries and other Christian and Muslim leaders. Like chiefs, healers who provided such medicines were strongly criticized and often hindered in carrying out what they thought were useful anti-witchery practices.46 In most colonies, it was possible to convict virtually any healer of witchery and to send that person to jail. As a result of the colonial policies, many healers abandoned their activities at the public level.47 In response to radical changes bringing insecurity and anxiety, many witchery cleansing movements have arisen in several parts of Africa where people have conceived of witchery as a serious problem.48 Although such movements are not exclusively linked to the colonial and post-colonial period of African history, this is a time when they have been thriving. Some of the leaders have been Christians or Muslims. Leaders of cleansing movements treated not only individuals but also communities, thus trying to purify whole groups of witchery problems. Even though such leaders have been criticized by politicians, their means of controlling witchery has not been a crime. Thus, it has provided people who believe in witchery with an at least fairly acceptable means of dealing with witchery

44

Multhaupt 1987: 445. Middleton & Winter 1963: 21. See also, e.g., Geschiere 1997: 15 and Douglas 1999: 181. 46 See further, e.g., Lee 1976: 114 ﬀ. and Janzen 1978: 24, 206. Cf. Tanner (1970: 23) who writes that alongside the decrease of chieﬂy controls among the Sukuma, the numbers of healers increased. 47 Feierman 1995: 87. 48 Middleton & Winter 1963: 24. 45

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fears, suspicions and accusations.49 Many leaders of cleansing movements have been innovative people opposed to colonial or post-colonial authorities and collaborative chiefs no longer able to handle problems of witchery; and their activities frequently manifested new syntheses and values rather than social breakdown.50 While cleansing movements attempt to solve the problem by purifying the practitioners of witchery of their evil intent after confessions, the goal of ‘witch hunting’ campaigns is to ﬁnd and kill such people. In recent decades such hunting has occurred increasingly among rural and urban populations alike.51 The above-mentioned case from Sukumaland is an important example of this serious problem. Although the purpose of cleansing movements is not to kill human beings, there may be some violence, such as beating and burning, involved in the attempts to make accused people confess.52 Thus, it is sometimes diﬃcult to diﬀerentiate clearly between cleansing and hunting movements. Since the aim of both types is to eradicate the problem of witchery, even though the means are totally diﬀerent, the term eradication movement may be used for referring to both. Among the Kongo the previously mentioned Munkukusa of the early 1950s was one of several examples of eradication movements. In the Munkukusa ritual a mixture of grave dirt and palm wine was employed as kundu-piercing medication. This mixture was placed in a trench forming the diameter of a cosmographic circle. Each suspect jumped over this trench after swearing an oath of the Nkondi type. Then he or she hammered nails into a wooden cross, in place of the Nkondi statue, and threw away various things symbolizing improper wealth resulting from kindoki.53 Munkukusa followers resorted to the graves of non-Christian ancestors for assistance in the ﬁght against bandoki but not to Christian ancestors since they were thought likely to be soft on bandoki.54 Prophets, bangunza, who among other things have tried to control witchery and facilitate group reconciliation, were largely seen by colonialists as a political threat and frequently

49 50 51 52 53 54

See further, e.g., Lee 1976 and Colson 2000: 343 f. Cf. Beidelman 1970: 354 f. and Multhaupt 1990: 38 ﬀ. Stadler 1996: 108; Yamba 1997: 203; and Colson 2000: 334. See, e.g., Douglas 1999: 184 f. Dalmalm 1985: 92 f.; MacGaﬀey 1986: 187; MacGaﬀey 2000: 99. MacGaﬀey 1986: 170.

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imprisoned or exiled. The best-known of the prophets, Simon Kimbangu, was sentenced to death in 1921 and then imprisoned for life in Katanga, where he died in 1951. In post-colonial times the oﬃcial attitudes to bangunza, as well as banganga, have been more tolerant. However, in Kongoland as elsewhere, the contemporary oﬃcial interest in African medicine concerns, as it did during colonial times, basically the herbal aspects, whereas what is seen as ‘magical devices’ can be vehemently opposed.55 An interesting example from the Yoruba area is the Atinga movement, which, like the Munkukusa in Kongoland, started its activities in the early 1950s. Like several other eradication movements it was not restricted to one single ethnic group—it originated in the mid-1940s in the (then) Southern Gold Coast from where it spread east. Not only adherents of the indigenous Yoruba religion but also Christians and Muslims embraced the new cult. Atinga, a foreign deity, was seen as an angel by many Christians. Some people who became possessed by Atinga claimed to have the power to recognize witches and to discover where sorcerers kept their harmful objects. Witches who were pointed out were asked to confess and thus be cleansed of their aje (witchcraft). The followers of the Atinga movement were mainly young people opposed to old orisha cults and frequently attacked several orisha shrines. Eventually, however, it was prohibited by law, and at least some of the destroyed shrines were rebuilt.56 According to Apter, the development of a cocoa economy intensiﬁed the existing etiology of witchcraft, and the Atinga cult had a strategic value for the rising commercial elite. The ‘new men’ could ﬁnance the cult from trade income and persecuted, in particular, female traders and the predominantly female orisha cults rather than, for instance, the Oro.57 Social Relations and Status According to Mary Douglas, problems of human causation of misfortune are likely to be marginal, if present at all, among peoples

55 Janzen 1978: 51 ﬀ., 60 ﬀ., 208 ﬀ. Concerning the Sukuma, see e.g. Hatﬁeld 1968: 285 ﬀ. 56 Simpson 1980: 79 f. 57 Apter 1993: 120 f. See also, e.g., Multhaupt 1990: 210 ﬀ.

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with sparse and irregular social contacts. She mentions huntinggathering San and pastoralist Nuer as examples of such peoples with low and irregular levels of social interaction. Conversely, issues like witchery and the evil eye are likely to be important where human beings press closely upon one another and the intensive social relations are ill deﬁned.58 In a similar sociological way, Middleton and Winter argue that social tensions and competition arise more frequently in societies or situations where status is achieved than in those where it is ascribed.59 The fact that, in modern African societies, social relations are increasingly associated with achieved rather than with ascribed status is apparently one of the reasons why human causation of disease and other types of misfortune is on the increase.60 The data on the peoples studied in this book to some extent support these contentions, and the discussion above can partly be seen in this light. Among these peoples, hunting-gathering San have the lowest and most irregular level of social interaction, and among them witchery and other kinds of human causation of disease are of little or no signiﬁcance. Although such causation does exist among pastoralist Maasai, it is of minor importance there too. Even among the Arusha, the social system is basically ascriptive: that is, social status and relationships are designated by birth, age and place of residence. Achievement is certainly possible but tends to be limited by a prescribed framework. Of particular importance are the age institutions, which for Arusha, as well as for pastoralist Maasai, play a vital and fundamental role in their social and individual lives.61 Unlike the above-mentioned anthropological works by Douglas, Middleton and Winter, however, this book focuses largely on processes of change. Among the San and Maasai, the incipient increase of competition for enhanced social status and income seems to be most clearly manifested by the tendency towards professionalization of healers or trance dancers and iloibonok, respectively. By their conspicuous expansion of power the iloibonok have rendered other specialists redundant or at least peripheral.62 In one of his studies on

Douglas 1970: xxx ﬀ. Middleton & Winter 1963: 18. 60 For a broader discussion of social anthropological theories on witchery in Africa, see Multhaupt 1987. See also, e.g., Nadel 1952. 61 Gulliver 1969: 232 f. 62 Galaty 1977: 319. 58 59

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the Nharo, Guenther even writes that a successful trance dancer can be assigned the potential role of a charismatic political leader with far-reaching authority.63 Increasingly, the ambivalent supranormal power of San and Maasai healers is being used not only for constructive purposes but also for evil machinations. Among the farm Nharo, where witchery ideas and practices have developed more extensively than among the hunting-gathering Kung, the Tswana concept of kgaba has become used as a kind of negative counterpart to tsso. As the healing power of tsso can be utilized not only by more or less professionalized healers but by virtually anybody, all Nharo are now also potential users of kgaba, the negative aspect of the supranormal power.64 In a sociologically oriented study of hunting-gathering Kung, Lee argues that they project the blame for malevolence to forces outside the social body and regard healing power as being derived from living humans. ‘They seek within the social body for benevolent powers.’ This serves to bind together the living in a common front against ‘hostile external forces’.65 While this is largely the case, it should be remembered that the suprahuman beings are not entirely hostile. Like the power of num, which ultimately derives from the ‘external’ force of God himself, they are rather ambivalent. Hence, it is somewhat simplistic to argue that the therapeutic dance or trance performance ‘can be regarded as a drama in which the stresses and tensions of social life are transformed into a common struggle against external sources of malevolence’.66 There is hardly any society where the social structure is purely ascriptive. During the period studied here, however, the principle of achievement has been more important among the Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba than among the San and Maasai. For instance, in 1933, Blohm concluded that if a Sukuma man had an extraordinarily rich harvest, or if a hunter was exceptionally successful in his hunting, they risked being accused of witchery.67 In addition, the change

63

Guenther 1975: 165. Ibid., 164; Guenther 1962: 85–90. 65 Lee 1968: 51. Cf. Woodburn 1982: 207. 66 Ibid., 53. Cf. Douglas’s (1970: xxx f.) broader discussion of witchery in terms of outsiders and internal enemies, respectively. When witches are conceived of as outsiders or external enemies, accusations reaﬃrm group boundaries and solidarity. 67 Blohm 1933: 148 f. 64

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towards a pattern that is increasingly dominated by the principle of achievement has been more rapid among the ﬁrst mentioned three peoples, and particularly among the Kongo and Yoruba. Concerning the socially fairly stratiﬁed society of the Kongo, MacGaﬀey in a general statement concludes that people there ‘have always been individualistic entrepreneurs anxious to make a proﬁt’.68 He argues that the distinction between public and private ends reﬂects the struggles of a highly politicized society where authoritative allocations of personal and corporate rights—supposedly ﬁxed by descent, kinship and ancestors—in fact have been constantly subject to political challenges, particularly on the part of chiefs, elders and other powerful people, supposedly the guardians of the legitimate order. ‘Denunciation of witchcraft and magic has always been part of an eﬀort to establish central authority and social discipline.’69 In another study, MacGaﬀey stresses that jealousy and competition are common features among the Kongo and that they spend much time in the hope of outsmarting others.70 Of all the peoples focused in this study, the Yoruba is the most socially stratiﬁed. Even at the beginning of the period concerned here, that is, the end of the nineteenth century, they formed highly stratiﬁed and complex urban societies. While some roles were ascribed, there was also a signiﬁcant amount of struggle for improvement. From that time onwards, competition, as well as problems of witchery, have increased. For instance, in his book on Yoruba religion and medicine, Simpson concludes that rivalry and socio-economic ambition, especially with reference to the education of children, are widespread among the Yoruba today.71 In general, family bonds are stretched to breaking points by new inequalities. This is an important micro-political background to the modern problems of witchery in many parts of Africa.72 While kinship continues to be an essential factor in studies of such problems,73 other factors like changing relationships between people of diﬀerent

68

MacGaﬀey 1986: 174. Ibid., 175. 70 MacGaﬀey 1983: 146. 71 Simpson 1980: 81. 72 Geschiere & Fisiy 1994: 183. Cf. Douglas 1999: 187 ﬀ. 73 This has been emphasized in, e.g., Geschiere & Fisiy 1994: 325 f. and Geschiere 1997: 9. 69

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generations and sexes, neighbours, work-mates and members of competing religions—one dominant, the other suppressed—have become increasingly signiﬁcant.74 Accusations of witchery may also be involved in personal vendettas.75 Witchery discourses can serve to bridge the gap between the familiar realities of the domestic community and the large-scale processes of change that have opened up new possibilities for enrichment but that also impose new forms of dependency, which are particularly frightening since they appear to be impersonal.76 In the following section some examples of the widening political scene of witchery will be given. Towards a Wider Political Context There is ‘a general feeling in many parts of Africa—and certainly not there alone—that witchcraft is reproducing itself hand-in-hand with modern changes, and on a rapidly increasing scale. It is in particular this increase of scale that makes the occult all the more frightening and uncertain.’77 The language and phenomena of witchery now appear in broad regional, national and even in transnational contexts. Like colonial rulers, new political elites condemn witchery, but privately they are much involved in consultations of specialists in these ﬁelds. It appears that the preoccupation with witchery haunts political and other leaders as much as others. Various African media make it clear that witchery permeates everyday conversation about politics, the pursuit of power, and the complex interdependence of rural and urban life.78 The role of ‘magic’ and ‘witch-doctors’ in, for instance, local and national soccer teams is well-known. Increasingly, witchery is no longer monopolized by specialists but can, in principle, be used by anyone. As a consequence, virtually anybody may be suspected too.79

74 For some examples, see Multhaupt 1990: 32; Stadler 1996: 87 ﬀ.; Douglas 1999: 182 ﬀ. 75 See, e.g., Stadler 1996: 107; Douglas 1999: 183. 76 Geschiere 1997: 24 f. 77 Ciekawy & Geschiere 1998: 3. 78 See further, e.g., Comaroﬀ & Comaroﬀ 1993: xxvi; Geschiere & Fisiy 1994: 323, 330; Geschiere 1996: 85; Geschiere 1997: 1, 3, 6; Schatzberg 2000: 34; Bernault & Tonda 2000: 5; Geschiere 2000: 19. 79 Geschiere & Fisiy 1994: 334; Bernault & Tonda 2000: 7; Schatzberg 2000: 40.

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As touched on above, of the ﬁve peoples analyzed in this volume, the San and Maasai have been somewhat less aﬀected by the modern enlargement of scale than have the Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba. Comparatively few San and Maasai have been involved in struggles for power in modern political institutions, even though such bodies certainly do inﬂuence them too. By contrast, many Sukuma, Kongo and Yoruba people have been active as politicians and in other leadership roles within modern structures. For instance, MacGaﬀey has concluded that politicians, in particular, have taken the operation of invisible forces of witchery seriously and that the belief in such forces is an essential factor in politics at the national level.80 In his recent book Kongo Political Culture, he writes: When Laurent Kabila’s miscellaneous army displaced Mobutu in 1997, some of its units conceived their task as that of rounding up witches to purify the country of corruption . . . ‘Witchcraft’ (that is, kindoki ) is not primitive thought ‘surviving’ in modern times and ‘adapting’ to the stresses of modernity, but is itself a mode of modernity.81

In much research on the peoples focused on here, as well as on many other African peoples or societies, there has often been a tendency to see them as more distinct and isolated than they are and have been.82 Hence, there is a need for more research on the wider political and socio-economic contexts with which they interact. Another problem in many studies is the tendency to see witchery as a conservative force, that is, as something that people use in order to defend themselves against changes. As remarked by Geschiere, however, there is an important challenge to explore the possibilities oﬀered by, among other things, witchery discourses to gain control over modern changes.83 This means, also, that there is a need to go beyond the common focus on witchery accusations, which tends to relate witchery to the reproduction of social orders. Since it can be dangerous to publicly accuse people in power, it is not frequently done. Therefore, scholars who carry out ﬁeld research need to ‘venture into the more vague spheres and try to make sense of the turmoil

80 81 82 83

MacGaﬀey 1997: vii f. MacGaﬀey 2000: 226 f. This point has also been stressed by, e.g., Tanner & Mitchell 2002: 22. Geschiere 1997: 14 f.

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of rumors or the highly ambivalent and elusive role of the healers and how they aﬀect social relations’.84 In this ﬁnal chapter the important increase in the role of living humans as agents of disease, who have largely replaced spiritual beings in this role, has been discussed historically and comparatively with a focus on socio-economic and political issues. It can hardly be denied that witchery, in a wide sense, is an eminently social phenomenon. However, in much theorizing about witchery, aspects of change have not been given enough consideration. While socio-economic and political analyses of continuity and change are focused on here, it should not be forgotten that there are other important dimensions of witchery and similar phenomena too. For instance, psychological aspects as well as issues of meaning and evil have not been studied in depth.85 Thus, such dimensions are further examples of desiderata for future research on African etiologies of disease.

84

Ibid., 219. Among others, Middleton and Winter (1963: 1) too onesidedly argue that beliefs in witches and sorcerers ‘are social, not psychological, phenomena and must so be analysed’. Cf., e.g., Prince (1961 and 1964) who in a valuable way deals with psychological and psychiatric aspects of witchery among the Yoruba. On the issue of witchery as an explanation for evil, see, e.g., Douglas 1999: 189 ﬀ. 85

APPENDIX

NOTES ON NATURAL CAUSATION OF DISEASE Popular African medicine has strong pragmatic elements and gives weight to natural explanation.1

San In studies from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries it was often reported that natural causation and treatment of diseases played an important part in San medical ideas and practices.2 G.W. Stow put it thus: The Bushmen certainly are acquainted with a number of very valuable medicinal plants; some of them are speciﬁcs in the cure of several diseases which have frequently baﬄed the skill of the most eminent medical practitioners; and it is a matter of astonishment that no eﬀort has been made to discover such important secrets. Thus they were able to eﬀect certain cures in cases of snake-bite, taenia, dysentery, and calculus, besides the rapid removal of gonorrheal aﬀections.3

Some later scholars, also, refer to the extensive knowledge about plant medicines and provide examples of natural causes and methods of curing.4 In modern works by anthropologists and scholars of religion, the occurrence of such references is not prominent.5 This may partly be because of shifting interests of scholars, but it may also indicate a deterioration of knowledge and skills in the natural and biological aspects of San medicine.6 1

Feierman 1985: 106. E.g., Nolte 1886; Lübbert 1901; Werner 1906: 258. 3 Stow 1910: 125. 4 E.g., Dornan 1925: 142, 162; Bleek 1928: 29; Schapera 1930: 215; Maingard 1937: 287 ﬀ.; Drobec 1953: 124–31; Wilhelm 1954: 173 ﬀ. 5 For some short examples, though, see Marshall 1969: 370; Köhler 1971: 323; Barnard 1979: 69 f.; and Smith et al. 2000: 70. 6 Heinz’s statement that the Ko, a southern San language group in Botswana, ‘do not possess great medicinal knowledge’ is an interesting case in point (Heinz 1975: 30). In his article Heinz states that the Ko collect only eight or nine medicinal plants of which they use the roots, stem or leaves to counteract certain types of ailment. This information contrasts sharply with statements made by earlier 2

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With regard to the Maasai, the issue of natural or physical causation is of particular importance. Early and modern sources seem to agree that, for Maasai, natural causes are of paramount signiﬁcance. There is indeed some evidence that the ideas of such causes were even more prevalent previously than during the last few decades. In 1904, for instance, Merker drew the conclusion that, to the Maasai, these were the most important reasons for ill-health;7 and twentythree years later Berthold presented similar conclusions.8 In a more recent study, Olsson says that ‘to the best of my knowledge, pastoral Maasai prefer to regard disease as physical inﬂuence upon, or organic perturbation in the bodies of men and animals’.9 This is also conﬁrmed by Sindiga who, in an important article from 1995, stresses the wide knowledge of herbal medicines. From an early age, both boys and girls start acquiring knowledge of such medicines.10 Ilabaak (sing. olabaani ) form a category of medical practitioners, who may be referred to as (secular) doctors or curers and who must not be confused with the iloibonok, whose art of healing has a religious dimension. In the medicine used by ilabaak, as well as by ordinary Maasai, it is the physical properties that count but, unlike those of iloibonok, not any supranormal qualities. Moreover, the doctors perform, among other things, operations, bone-setting and vaccinations too.11 scholars such as Stow (1910: 125) and Dornan (1925: 142, 162). Heinz says that ‘almost all’ of the Ko medical activities are restricted to ‘exorcising dances’. He does not discuss historical issues here, but it may be asked whether there may have been, concomitant with a decrease of knowledge of natural causes and remedies, an increased signiﬁcance of the religious aspects of Ko medicine. This question may be asked, also, with regard to Guenther’s material on the recent resurgence of Nharo religion. 7 ‘Die Entstehung von inneren Krankheiten führen die Masai, im Gegensatz zu den Negervölkern, nie auf das Tun böser Geister und nur selten auf einen gegen den Erkrankten von einem seiner persönlichen Feinde bereiteten Zauber zurück.’ (Merker 1904: 174). 8 Writing on the Maasai doctor, he argued appreciatively: ‘Seine Kunst ist eine Kunst, Zauberei spielt keine Rolle in seinem Gewerbe, sondern eine geradezu verblüﬀende Kenntnis der Anatomie, der Funktionen der verschiedenen Organe, der heilenden Eigenschaften von Pﬂanzen, Erden, ja selbst von Stoﬀen aus Lebewesen’ (Berthold 1927: 5). 9 Olsson 1989: 235. 10 Sindiga 1995: 95. 11 See, e.g., Jacobs 1965: 322; Galaty 1977: 298 f.; Voshaar 1979: 203 f., 211; Sindiga 1995: 97 f.

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Several authors have provided more or less detailed accounts of the wide medical knowledge and use of a great variety of natural remedies, particularly herbal medicines, and diseases thought to be cured by these.12 One Maasai way of increasing anatomical knowledge has been by studying the anatomy of cattle.13 An example of the treatment of patients suﬀering from venereal diseases, which at times have also been a great problem among the Maasai, is the custom of enforcing quarantine on active suﬀerers from syphilis.14 The prevalence of venereal diseases is, in part, a consequence of liberal views on sexual relations, although the ‘promiscuous’ life of Maasai warriors has been exaggerated by some authors.15 It is interesting to note, also, that health reasons have been given for the removal of the two central lower incisors. If an ill person keeps his or her mouth tightly closed, food and drink can be poured in through the hole.16 Sukuma Among the Sukuma, most diseases that are thought to have natural causes are minor and transitory. Such maladies do not require divination. According to Reid, congenital illnesses are also considered to be caused naturally.17 Although fertility problems are often attributed to ancestors, even serious aﬄictions such as sterility and impotence may well have natural causes.18 From the Nyamwezi area, Bösch reported that deaths might be attributed to natural causes,

12 Baumann 1894: 162 f.; Merker 1904: 174 ﬀ., 340 ﬀ.; Hollis 1905: 335 ﬀ.; Fuchs 1910: 122; Berthold 1927: 5 ﬀ.; Jacobs 1965: 139 ﬀ.; Sankan 1971: 59 ﬀ.; Galaty 1977: 298 f.; Voshaar 1979: 323 f.; Landei 1982: 44 f.; Hurskainen 1984: 204 ﬀ.; Sindiga 1995: 101. Cf., e.g., Nüssler 1931: 172; Buchta 1932: 266. For an extensive study of ethnobotany among the Mukogodo Maasai, see Brenzinger, Heine & Heine 1995. 13 Saibull & Carr 1981: 75. 14 McKay 1950: 454 f. According to McKay, this ‘excellent custom’ was, unfortunately, discontinued among those Purko Maasai he studied when European doctors started treating syphilis. See also Koenig 1956: 97. 15 E.g., Thomson 1883/84: 252. In recent decades the problem of venereal diseases, including AIDS, appears to have worsened (Voshaar 1979: 317 f.). 16 Leakey 1930: 187. A Maasai theory about internal worms has been reported by Buchta (1939: 228), but neither he nor, as far as I know, any other scholar has elaborated on this interesting theory. 17 Reid 1969: 71 f., 80. 18 Table n.d.a.: 2; Reid 1969: 78.

212

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although in most cases the balogi, witches/sorcerers, were held responsible.19 There is extensive knowledge about hygiene and household remedies. If an aﬄiction is not too serious, people ﬁrst try some self-therapy at home.20 Bösch claimed that at his time the Nyamwezi lay peoples knew more about anatomy than did their western counterparts.21 Some remedies or medicines for minor ailments, for instance emetics and laxatives, are known by virtually all Sukuma.22 In addition to the various healers, bafumu, who are specialized in dealing with suprahuman powers and causes of illness, there are other bafumu, or ‘secular doctors’, who treat naturally caused aﬄictions.23 Even a modern medical doctor can be called mfumu.24 There is a great knowledge of herbal medicines. ‘Most adult Sukuma can name and identify hundreds of plants, shrubs and trees with their uses, most of which will be medicinal.’25 Hatﬁeld says that there is an amazing variety of substances used in medicines,26 and Tanner concludes that the Sukuma have ‘an enormous pharmacopaeia’, probably extending to more than a thousand plants, each of which may have several uses.27 In another work, Tanner says that the bafumu are characterized by an ‘almost frenetic activity to seek for greater knowledge’.28 Often the ‘natural’ eﬃcacy of plant medicines merge with the symbolic or ‘magic’ potential of the same, or added, ingredients.29

19 ‘Les indigènes eux-mêmes admettent bien qu’on peut mourir de mort naturelle, mais pratiquement ils rendent presque toujours les balogi responsables d’un mort’ (Bösch 1930: 225). 20 Table n.d.a.: 113 ﬀ., 136 f.; Tanner 1959: 119; Reid 1969: 230. 21 Bösch 1930: 229. See also Cory n.d.a.: 1. 22 Table n.d.a.: 151. 23 A curer who treats such aﬄictions can be called mfumu naguji or ngota. See further Tanner 1967: 43 and Ng’weshemi 1990: 22. Cf. Hatﬁeld 1968: 110. 24 Brandström 1990, chapter 6: 9. At least external surgery is practised. See further Cory n.d.a.: 2; Table n.d.a.: 167, 170, 590; Hatﬁeld 1968: 111. Cf. Tanner 1959: 120 f. Concerning the Nyamwezi, see Bösch 1930: 286 ﬀ., 293. 25 Wijsen & Tanner 2002: 47. 26 Hatﬁeld 1968: 111. 27 Tanner 1957: 119. Some lists of medicines are found in, for instance, Bösch 1930: 289 ﬀ. and Table n.d.a.: 591 ﬀ. See further Augustiny 1923/24: 171; Bösch 1930: 286; Table n.d.a.: 173, 589 f. 28 Tanner 1967: 48. 29 Many examples are rendered in the long lists of remedies in Table n.d.a: 155–178. The concept of medicine, bugota, implies both ‘natural’ and ‘magical’ aspects (Hatﬁeld 1968: 83; Steeves 1990: 70 f.). See also Bösch 1930: 286 and Table n.d.a.: 586. Unlike organized cult activities and divination, which have

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Kongo As among the Sukuma, for instance, diseases that have natural causes—‘illnesses of God’—are generally mild or benign aﬄictions which respond readily to therapy and are not related to particular disturbances in the immediate social relationships of the suﬀerer. Common and simple problems like headache, stomach-ache, cold, fever or accidental wounds may belong to this category. Moreover, diseases or deaths of old people or neonates are often considered to be natural. Bouquet and Janzen, among others, report that there is much empiricism and experimentation in Kongo medicine.30 However, if an aﬄiction does not respond to symptomatic treatment, then it is suspected to be caused by spiritual beings or living humans.31 Minor ailments are frequently treated at home and, as remarked by Dalmalm, all Congolese are potential curers.32 A specialist on the treatment of aﬄictions with natural causes is called nganga mbuki (or nganga buka). Such a curer, who in English is often referred to as a ‘herbalist’, uses medicines (bilongo) which are not connected to nkisi objects and spirits. While missions and colonial rulers condemned banganga who dealt with problems of nkisi and kindoki, they tended to accept the nganga mbuki. As a result, banganga increasingly tried to adopt discreet identities as ‘herbalists’. In independent Zaire the campaign of ‘authenticity’ included, among other things, a certain exaltation of traditional medicine.33 The treatment of diseases with natural causes may involve, in addition to the use of herbal medicines, scariﬁcations, incisions, bone setting, steam baths, massage and head-pack applications. There is an extensive knowledge of plant medicines, but indigenous methods of surgery are not very advanced and nowadays largely ignored.34 diminished, medicines seem to ﬂourish. Especially in towns there has been a proliferation of individual practitioners who practise medicine without much indigenous training and equipment (Hatﬁeld 1968: 299; Tanner 1969: 288). 30 Bouquet 1969: 36; Janzen 1978: 198. 31 Janzen 1978: 22, 48, 127. See further, e.g., Mahaniah 1973: 229; Mahaniah 1980: 593; Pambou 1980–81: 59; Dimomfu 1984: 26 ﬀ.; Dalmalm 1985: 77. 32 Dalmalm 1985: 79. See also Janzen 1978: 64; Pambou 1980–81: 60; Dimomfu 1984: 24. 33 Van Wing 1959: 419; Mahaniah 1973: 229; Janzen 1978: 45, 53, 57; Janzen 1979: 214 f.; Pambou 1979–80: 44; Dalmalm 1985: 63. Cf. Dimomfu 1984: 12 ﬀ. 34 For some more details, see Bouquet 1969: 33 f.; Janzen 1978: 179 ﬀ.; JacobsonWidding 1979: 152; Janzen 1979: 208; Pambou 1979–80: 45 f.; Batukezanga 1981: 62; Mahaniah 1982: 23, 54 ﬀ.; Lagercrantz 1983/84: 85; Dimomfu 1984: 26.

214

appendix Yoruba

Like the Maasai, Sukuma, Kongo and probably most African peoples, the Yoruba distinguish between the roles of ‘curers’ and ‘healers’. Although there is, in practice, some overlapping between the diﬀerent types of experts, an onisegun is basically a doctor or curer who deals primarily with naturally or physically occasioned aﬄictions, whereas a babalawo, or some other priest or diviner, is an expert on religiously and socially based diagnoses and therapies. A great multitude of minor ailments can be treated at home or by an onisegun or some other type of curer. Associations for herbalists have existed in Yorubaland since the nineteenth century, and there has recently been a proliferation of such associations.35 In some works, lists of various herbal medicines are provided.36 Medicinal treatments, as well as theories of causation, frequently combine the physical or pharmacological element with religious and social aspects.37 The signiﬁcance of symbolic features such as colour, smell and ﬂavour is discussed in detail by Buckley.38 Yet he emphasizes that the importance of symbolism must not be exaggerated. ‘Folk medicine’, he says, is primarily an instrumental system of techniques for dealing practically with certain human ills.39 Although the representativeness of Buckley’s few informants may be questioned, it is interesting to note that, according to them, not only minor aﬄictions but the great majority of illnesses are due to natural causes. For instance, a wide variety of diseases, such as dysentery, dropsy, yaws (= frambesia, a contagious skin disease) and some psychiatric problems, may be caused, wholly or at least partly, by invisible worms in the body. In addition to such worms, there are germs that occasion sicknesses; and impure or abnormal blood may be the cause of, among other things, rheumatism and sterility. Particularly the signiﬁcance of worms and germs in the body, which is discussed in detail in Buckley’s

35

See further, e.g., Table n.d.b.: 200 f.; Ajose 1957: 269 f.; Leighton et al. 1963: 113; Bascom 1969a: 70; Maclean 1971: 75, 82 f.; Verger 1971: 50, 52; Asuni 1976: 4; Maclean 1976: 315; Braito & Asuni 1979: 188; Wolﬀ 1979: 127; Simpson 1980: 93 ﬀ.; Oyebola 1981: 87, 89. 36 E.g., Table n.d.b.: 201–206; Verger 1971: 50–55; Simpson 1980: 150 ﬀ. 37 Margetts 1965: 116; Maclean 1971: 83; Ayoade 1979: 49. 38 Buckley 1985a: 45 ﬀ., 53 ﬀ. 70 ﬀ., 86 ﬀ. 39 Ibid., 108.

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Yoruba Medicine (1985), has been observed by many other scholars too.40 According to Buckley’s informants, the worms and germs within the body contribute to the health of the body. However, too much sweet food, sexual activity or alcohol can make them ‘too strong’ or ‘too powerful’, and then they cause diseases.41 Other natural causes of illness are, for instance, faulty diet, hereditary factors, hemp smoking and other toxins. It is interesting to observe that, among Simpson’s informants, ‘non-healers’ spoke more often about natural causes than did the ‘healers’, who were more familiar with the powerful suprahuman and human forces and who had a personal stake in healing.42 Perhaps the corresponding great familiarity with and personal stake in ‘herbalism’ of Buckley’s informants are part of the explanation why Yoruba medicine, in their view, is a basically naturalistic system.43 Besides herbal treatment, there are indigenous methods used to perform, for instance, circumcision, scariﬁcation and bone setting. ‘Traditional’ surgery, however, is largely carried out by Hausa experts who travel around western Nigeria practising their trade.44 When there are epidemic diseases, like smallpox, isolation and measures of disinfection are means of dealing with the problems.45 While many scholars, such as Dopamu, Simpson and Oladapo, emphasize the importance of rituals, incantations and ‘magic’ that are combined with natural types of treatment, Buckley stresses primarily the ‘underlying rationality’ of indigenous Yoruba medicine. ‘Within Yoruba medicinal practice there is a strong element of critical appraisal akin to, although not identical with, the spirit of scientiﬁc enquiry to be found in the West.’46 Consequently, Buckley’s informants and others ‘constantly subject their medicinal knowledge to empirical criticism’.47

40 Prince 1964: 89; Lucas & Hendrickse 1971: 35; Dopamu 1977: 458; Wolﬀ 1979: 128; Simpson 1980: 98, 100 ﬀ.; Oladapo 1984: 127; Buckley 1985a: 25 ﬀ. 41 Ibid., 32 f. Cf. Simpson (1980: 3) who says that, according to one of his informants, the deity Obatala may attack people with worms. 42 Simpson 1980: 108. 43 Cf. further Leighton et al. 1963: 110, 113; Prince 1964: 88 f.; Maclean 1971: 125; Ayoade 1979: 49; Wolﬀ 1979: 128; Simpson 1980: 100–109; Oladapo 1984: 109. 44 Asuni 1976: 4; Simpson 1980: 97. 45 Ajose 1957: 270. 46 Buckley 1985a: 159. 47 Ibid., 161

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INDEX afterlife, 50–51, 57, 72, 82, 87–88, 103, 106, 176 agriculturalist peoples, 2–3, 14, 29, 33, 36, 41, 70, 82, 85, 87, 150, 189, 195–196, 198 ancestors, 6–7, 36, 41, 50, 53, 65, 73, 82–83, 85, 87–97, 99–101, 103–108, 119–121, 123, 127, 141, 143–148, 154, 165, 169, 171, 180, 189–190, 192, 201, 205, 211 Angola, 26, 35–36, 50 anthropology, medical, 4–5, 8 Arusha, 14–15, 28–29, 31, 70, 73–74, 77, 82–83, 157, 160, 195, 203 babalawo, 131–132, 137, 139–140, 142–143, 181, 214 Bantu, 12, 25–26, 31 n. 26, 32, 35, 36, 43 n. 10, 54, 73, 80, 104, 119 n. 78, 152–153, 162, 189, 195, 198 biomedicine, 6, 8 n. 28, 80–81, 118, 162, 184, 193 blessings, 7, 67, 76, 95, 107, 127, 139, 156–157, 158, 161, 176, 186 Botswana, 10, 12, 25–28, 209 n. 6 burial, 50, 72–73, 83, 106–107, 130, 135, 144 Bushmen, 12, 25, 42–43, 149, 151, 152–153, 195–196, 209 cattle, 29–31, 33, 36, 69, 77–78, 89, 162 Chagga, 31, 73, 80, 163 chiefs and chieftainship, 30, 34, 37, 39, 86 n. 9, 87, 89, 93, 107, 145, 150, 167, 169, 171–172, 199–201, 205 Christians and Christianity, 6, 13 n. 46, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 32–33, 35, 40, 42–44, 46, 48, 51, 69 n. 33, 71–72, 73 n. 69, 77, 81–82, 86, 88, 89 n. 29, 98 n. 66, 104, 115–116, 118–119, 122–125, 134, 136, 142, 147, 171, 176, 187, 191–194, 198, 200–202 Church Missionary Society, 20–21, 24, 38 n. 54, 122–123, 136, 141, 187 circumcision, 31, 67, 143, 197, 215

cosmology, 4, 86, 103, 121–122 curses, 7, 79, 107, 150, 152 n. 21, 156–158, 160, 163, 167, 172, 176, 186–187, 197 deities/divinities, 41, 43–50, 52–53, 57–62, 75, 121–124, 126–127, 128 nn. 46, 51, 129–148, 177, 179 n. 104, 182, 185, 187, 215 n. 41 disease, 5–10, 12–16, 19–20, 23 n. 80, 28, 29 n. 18, 41, 43, 54, 57, 59–60, 61, 63, 65, 73–80, 82–83, 91–93, 95, 97, 99, 100 n. 80, 101, 104, 105–107, 110, 113, 118–119, 123, 125–128, 130–134, 137–141, 145, 147, 149, 150, 152–154, 156–160, 163, 167, 171, 176, 189–190, 193, 195–198, 203, 208, 210–211, 214 divination, 3–4, 92, 94–96, 115 n. 62, 132–134, 211, 212 n. 29 doctors, 115, 128, 156, 210, 212, 214 education, 21, 42, 163, 165, 187, 193, 205 elders, 7, 30–31, 34, 37, 66 n. 10, 67, 76–79, 89, 107, 150, 156–158, 160, 162, 172 n. 48, 197, 205 eradication (of witchery) movements, 3, 175, 192, 199–202 ethnicity, 3, 5, 32, 81, 154–155, 158, 180, 192, 202 etiologies (of disease), 2 n. 6, 4–6, 8–9, 13, 16 n. 61, 104, 193, 202, 208 Evans-Pritchard, E.E., 4 n. 12, 7 n. 26, 166 evil eyes, 150, 197 God, 17, 43–52, 55, 57–62, 65–70, 72–79, 82, 85, 88–89, 92, 95, 97–100, 104, 106, 109, 115, 118–126, 132–133, 135, 137, 141–143, 148, 150, 154–158, 161, 169, 177, 181, 185, 198, 204, 213 healers, 52, 54–62, 67 n. 17, 72, 74, 79–82, 95–96, 110, 113, 116, 132, 140, 143, 150–156, 158–159, 162, 167, 169, 174, 180, 182, 184–187, 194–195, 198, 200, 203, 208, 212, 214–215

236

index

healing and therapy, 4, 8, 15, 54 n. 102, 59, 61, 81, 96, 104, 109, 115–116, 117, 136, 138–140, 150, 153, 156, 158–159, 179, 186, 194–196, 204, 210, 212–213, 215 heavenly beings, 41, 43, 48, 54, 61, 63 herbalists and herbalism, 23, 109, 115, 181, 183, 194, 202, 211–215 hunting-gathering peoples, 2–3, 12, 25, 27–28, 29 n. 17, 50–51, 56, 149–150, 191, 194, 196–197, 203–204 Idowu, E. Bolaji, 1, 22, 121–122, 124, 125 n. 139, 126, 127 n. 43, 128 n. 46, 130 nn. 64, 66, 131 n. 73, 132 n. 81, 133–134, 135 n. 109, 136 n. 115, 137 nn. 126–127, 138 n. 134, 139 n. 139, 141 n. 156, 142 n. 157 iloibonok, 30, 72, 74, 80, 82, 154–163, 186 n. 156, 195, 197, 203, 210 initiation, 43 n. 10, 67, 91, 131–134, 139, 145 Jesuits, 18–19, 35, 116 Kenya, 15, 28, 194 kindoki, 19, 108, 116, 118, 166–167, 172–176, 199, 201, 207, 213 kinship, 27, 30, 34, 39 n. 55, 54, 94, 105 n. 14, 191, 205 Ko, 12, 26, 49, 51, 61, 152, 209 Kongo, 3, 17–20, 26 n. 12, 35–37, 103–110, 113, 114 n. 57, 115 n. 62, 116–120, 123, 165–167, 172, 174, 175 n. 72, 176 n. 78, 190–191, 192 n. 22, 196, 198, 199 n. 42, 201, 204–205, 207, 213–214 Kung, 10–12, 13, 26 n. 12, 27–28, 41, 43, 44 n. 17, 46, 47, 49–51, 52 n. 88, 53, 54 n. 104, 55–56, 58–63, 149–153, 196, 204 Kxoe, 12–13, 26, 47 n. 36, 48 n. 52, 58 n. 131, 61, 152 Laman, Karl, 18 n. 66, 20, 35–36, 103, 105–120, 172, 173, 174 Maa language, 15, 28, 29 n. 17, 31 n. 26 Maasai, 3, 13–15, 26, 28–29, 31–32, 65–73, 75–78, 80–82, 85–86, 98, 149–150, 154, 155 n. 41, 156–159, 161–163, 172 n. 44, 176, 186 n. 156,

191–192, 194–198, 203–204, 207, 210–211, 211 nn. 12, 14, 16, 214 Mbiti, John S., 1, 7 medicine, 4, 6, 15, 21–23, 53, 63, 74, 81, 96, 99, 109–110, 132, 138, 151, 155, 159, 163, 165–166, 181, 183–184, 189–190, 202, 205, 209, 210, 212–215 missions and missionaries, 9–11, 13–21, 24, 35, 38, 86, 103–104, 106, 116, 118, 120, 122–123, 160, 166, 171, 173–175, 187, 191–192, 200 Muslims and Islam, 23, 32–33, 40, 65, 81, 101, 123–125, 142, 191–193, 200, 202 myth, 3, 38, 42, 45–46, 49–50, 52, 66, 94, 104, 122, 130 Namibia, 11–12, 26–28, 50 nganga/banganga, 109–110, 115–118, 167, 172–174, 202, 213 Nharo, 10–12, 26–28, 42–44, 46–62, 150–154, 195–197, 204, 209 Nigeria, 21–23, 38, 121, 125, 129, 131, 215 nkisi, 19, 103–105, 108–120, 174, 192, 199, 213 num, 55–56, 59, 63, 96 n. 56, 150, 152–153, 204 Nyae Nyae, 11–12, 41, 43, 47, 51–52, 61 Nyamwezi, 17, 32, 86 n. 8, 88 n. 16, 90 n. 30, 92 n. 40, 94 n. 50, 97, 99 n. 75, 101 n. 87, 166 n. 8, 168, 170 n. 31, 171 n. 37, 211–212 oﬀerings, 47, 53, 67, 70, 73, 83, 94–95, 107, 117, 130, 139, 141, 143 oloirirua/iloiriruani, 71, 79–81 orisha, 121–122, 123 n. 13, 126–128, 131 n. 78, 132–133, 140–142, 145–147, 177, 187, 193, 202 pastoralist peoples, 3, 14–15, 29, 31–33, 65–67, 70, 72, 74, 82, 82 n. 121, 85, 149–150, 154, 160, 190, 191, 194–195, 197, 203, 210 polygamy and polygyny, 27, 30, 170, 180–181, 196–197 prayer, 44 n. 17, 47, 50, 53, 67–68, 70, 73, 79, 82–83, 89 n. 29, 94–95, 97–99, 117, 120, 124–125, 127–128, 130, 132–134, 157, 186

index

237

priests and priesthood, 37 n. 48, 42, 65–66, 96, 120–121, 127, 129–130, 134–135, 144, 146–147, 192

141, 165–174, 179–181, 187, 190–192, 196, 198–199, 200 n. 46, 202 n. 55, 204, 207, 211–214

ritual, 4, 30, 34, 43, 54 n. 102, 67, 71, 73, 76, 83, 85–86, 89–91, 93, 96–97, 121, 128–129, 131, 134–135, 139–140, 144–146, 154–158, 168, 189, 192–193, 197, 201, 215

taboos, 8, 90, 101, 109, 114–115, 130, 131, 135–137, 139, 145 Tanzania, 14–17, 28–29, 31–34, 71, 80, 82, 96, 159, 163, 194, 197 trance dances, 43, 53–56, 58–60, 62–63, 150, 154, 195–196 trees, 36, 41, 59, 70, 76–77, 79, 90, 113–114, 132, 159, 174, 212 tsso, 55, 150, 152–153, 204

sacriﬁces, 47, 70–71, 75, 79, 82, 89–91, 99, 101, 114, 117, 120, 124, 126–127, 130, 133, 134–135, 141, 143–144, 146, 180 San, 3, 10–12, 25–28, 33, 41–46, 47 n. 36, 48–51, 53–54, 56, 59 n. 137, 61–63, 66–67, 75, 85–86, 96, 116–117, 149–154, 163, 191–192, 194–197, 203–204, 207–209 Schmidt, Father Wilhelm, 11, 13–14, 44–47, 49–50, 51 n. 81, 53 n. 96, 63 n. 163, 65 n. 5, 69 n. 31, 70 n. 36, 71 n. 43, 72 n. 64, 78, 79 n. 101, 149, 154 n. 31 sin, 61, 76, 77, 93, 94 n. 47, 125 smallpox, 93, 101, 128–131, 134, 144, 147, 179, 184, 215 soul/spirit, 51, 56–58, 60, 62, 72, 87, 92 n. 40, 105, 113, 117, 120, 141, 142–143, 150, 173–174, 178 spirit possession, 71, 80–81, 96, 101, 116–117, 128, 140, 155, 162–163, 197–198 spirits, 2, 6–9, 41, 43, 48, 50–53, 56–63, 65, 71, 73, 79–82, 82 n. 121, 85, 88–95, 98–101, 103–106, 108–111, 114, 116–123, 128, 139–143, 145–148, 150, 172, 174, 189, 192–193, 198, 208, 213 Sukuma, 3, 4 n. 12, 15–17, 26 n. 12, 32–34, 85–98, 100, 119, 123,

van Wing, Joseph, 18, 105–111, 113, 114–117, 119–120, 166, 172–175, 213 White Fathers, 9, 15–17, 21, 86–87, 170 witchery, 3, 7, 20, 86, 91–93, 101, 105, 108, 122, 135, 141, 145–146, 149, 150–153, 159–160, 163, 165, 166–167, 169–171, 174, 176–181, 185–192, 194–208, 212 women, 27, 31, 36, 37 n. 48, 39, 54, 62, 67, 70, 77, 81–83, 90, 95–96, 108, 110, 113, 144–146, 153, 156, 162, 171, 175, 177, 179–180, 185–186, 188, 196–197, 199 Yoruba, 1 n. 4, 3, 20–23, 25 n. 6, 26 n. 12, 38–40, 121–129, 131–132, 134, 136, 138, 140–142, 144, 145 n. 179, 147–148, 165, 167, 176–177, 179–181, 182 n. 124, 183, 184, 186–187, 190–192, 193 n. 23, 196, 198–199, 202, 204–205, 207, 208 n. 85, 214–215 Zaire, 19–20, 35–36, 189, 213

STUDIES OF RELIGION IN AFRICA SUPPLEMENTS TO THE JOURNAL OF RELIGION IN AFRICA

1. MOBLEY, H.W. The Ghanaian’s Image of the Missionary. An Analysis of the Published Critiques of Christian Missionaries by Ghanaians, 1897-1965. 1970. ISBN 90 04 01185 4 2. POBEE, J.S. (ed.). Religion in a Pluralistic Society. Essays Presented to Professor C.G. Baëta in Celebration of his Retirement from the Service of the University of Ghana, September 1971, by Friends and Colleagues Scattered over the Globe. 1976. ISBN 90 04 04556 2 3. TASIE, G.O.M. Christian Missionary Enterprise in the Niger Delta, 1864-1918. 1978. ISBN 90 04 05243 7 4. REECK,D. Deep Mende. Religious Interactions in a Changing African Rural Society. 1978. ISBN 90 04 04769 7 5. BUTSELAAR, J. VAN. Africains, missionnaires et colonialistes. Les origines de l’Église Presbytérienne de Mozambique (Mission Suisse), 1880-1896. 1984. ISBN 90 04 07481 3 6. OMENKA, N.I. The School in the Service of Evangelization. The Catholic Educational Impact in Eastern Nigeria 1886-1950. 1989. ISBN 90 04 08932 3 7. JE¸ DREJ, M.C. & SHAW, R. (eds.). Dreaming, Religion and Society in Africa. 1992. ISBN 90 04 08936 5 8. GARVEY, B. Bembaland Church. Religious and Social Change in South Central Africa, 1891-1964. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09957 3 9. OOSTHUIZEN, G.C., KITSHOFF, M.C. & DUBE, S.W.D. (eds.). Afro-Christianity at the Grassroots. Its Dynamics and Strategies. Foreword by Archbishop Desmond Tutu. 1994. ISBN 90 04 10035 0 10. SHANK, D.A. Prophet Harris, the ‘Black Elijah’ of West Africa. Abridged by Jocelyn Murray. 1994. ISBN 90 04 09980 8 11. HINFELAAR, H.F. Bemba-speaking Women of Zambia in a Century of Religious Change (1892-1992). 1994. ISBN 90 04 10149 7 12. GIFFORD, P. (ed.). The Christian Churches and the Democratisation of Africa. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10324 4 13. JE¸ DREJ, M.C. Ingessana. The Religious Institutions of a People of the Sudan-Ethiopia Borderland. 1995. ISBN 90 04 10361 9 14. FIEDLER, K. Christianity and African Culture. Conservative German Protestant Missionaries in Tanzania, 1900-1940. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10497 6

15. OBENG, P. Asante Catholicims. Religious and Cultural Reproduction Among the Akan of Ghana. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10631 6 16. FARGHER, B.L. The Origins of the New Churches Movement in Southern Ethiopia, 1927-1944. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10661 8 17. TAYLOR, W.H. Mission te Educate. A History of the Educational Work of the Scottish Presbyterian Mission in East Nigeria, 1846-1960. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10713 4 18. RUEL, M. Belief, Ritual and the Securing of Life. Reflexive Essays on a Bantu Religion. 1996. ISBN 90 04 10640 5 19. McKENZIE, P. Hail Orisha! A Phenomenology of a West African Religion in the Mid-Nineteenth Century. 1997. ISBN 90 04 10942 0 20. MIDDLETON, K. Ancestors, Power and History in Madagascar. 1999. ISBN 90 04 11289 8 21. LUDWIG, F. Church and State in Tanzania. Aspects of a Changing Relationship, 1961-1994. 1999. 90 04 11506 4 22. BURKE, J.F. These Catholic Sisters are all Mamas! Towards the Inculturation of the Sisterhood in Africa, an Ethnographic Study. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11930 2 23. MAXWELL, D., with I. LAWRIE (eds.) Christianity and the African Imagination. Essays in Honour of Adrian Hastings. 2001. ISBN 90 04 11668 0 24. GUNNER, E. The Man of Heaven and the Beautiful Ones of God. 2003. In preparation. ISBN 90 04 12542 6 25. PEMBERTON, C. Circle Thinking. African Women Theologians in Dialogue with the West. 2003. ISBN 90 04 12441 1 26. WEISS, B. (ed.). Producing African Futures. Ritual and Reproduction in a Neoliberal Age. 2004. ISBN 90 04 13860 9 27. ASAMOAH-GYADU, J.K. African Charismatics. Current Developments within Independent Indigenous Pentecostalism in Ghana. 2004. ISBN 90 04 14089 1 28. WESTERLUND, D. African Indigenous Religions and Disease Causation. From Spriritual Beings to Living Humans. 2006. ISBN 90 04 14433 1 29. FAULKNER, M.R.J. Overtly Muslim, Covertly Boni. Competing Calls of Religious Allegiance on the Kenyan Coast. 2006. ISBN 90 04 14753 5