Ruby Eyes of Witch Snake

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 714, 13 July 1929, Page 2

Ruby Eyes of Witch Snake

Terror Spread by

Swazi “Doctor”

Seven Sicazi people—a headman, his three wires and their three children—have been murdered after a traditional “smelling-out” by a witch doctor.

■ ITCHCRAFT and death under the British flag! Yes, though our influence for good is great, there are still whole communities and tribes of negroid people in remote places of Africa living under the constant terror of the witch doctor (writes Halkon Nightingale). The mounted policeman patrolling through Northern Zululand or Swaziland sees nothing on the surface, though he suspects a great deal; the missionary finds something menacing and mystic in the wide-eyed terror of his converts when the dread whisper “Isanuzi” (wizard) goes around; but the white man seldom comes in anywhere, except at the death. I know, for I have rapped at the doors of several of these mysteries and come away confounded by the cunning of the urbane, wrinkled, squatting man with dry eyes like those of a lizard. Yet all the time

T have known he was a witch doctor, the secret power behind the despotic grasping chief. THE HUSBAND—APART The Swaziland case resembles all others in its broad outlines. The headman’s charred body was found along with those of his women and children on the floor of what had once been a grass hut. At present the report is that they were assegaied and bludgeoned to death and that the hut was set alight to cover the crime. This sounds improbable because the murderers know the police know that Zulu and Swazi people do not herd together like that in a single hut. It would be beneath the headman’s dignity to sleep with his wives and children.

The more probable event was that having been pointed out as witches the members of the family were submitted to the sardonic ordeal by fire; which, briefly, is that they would be locked in the blazing hut; if they died they were not witches; if they lived they were wizards, and as such fit only for death. Probably some of the poor wretches showed signs of life after the swift and fiery ordeal—it does not take long for a grass hut to burn through—and then the spears and knobbing sticks would come into play. The “smelling out” arises from several causes. It may be the cattle or some of the children in several kraals fall sick. Fear, fomented by the witch doctor, clamours for victims, and those are the witch or witches who have brought on the calamity. We have our own old parallel in the Jonah aboard ship. But more probably it is a deadly intrigue. A chief, or a man rich in cattle and girls, envies another, usually a relative, whose riches are growing greater. Very well, the chief, or the envious man, feigns sickness—has even been known to steal, hide, or maim his own cattle —and roars out lustily in the night that the witches are tormenting him. FIEND IN THE PLOT The witch doctor, who is in the plot and shares largely in the proceeds, collects the ti’ibe or clan and “smells out” the witch from a circle of trembling -wretches. They iuow not on whom the doom is to fall, until “the snake’s head,” in the hands of the Isanuzi, circles, hovers, returns, and remains fixed, pointing at an individual or a group. The “snake’s head” is a simple mechanical contrivance of wood and sinews, which can be controlled by the concealed motion of the “doctor’s” thumbs. The carved head is sometimes garnished with eyes of pigeon ruby, cunningly set. How many times have those cold, brilliant stones been the signal for the worst form of torture? This queer strain of the statesmanmagician runs through the ages. The Zulu or Swazi witch-doctor is a clever man who inherits secrets of diplomacy and crude science. It is a mistake to think he is “just a nigger.” The past masters in their art know more about applied telepathy and hypnotism than all the fortune-tellers, music-hall ai-tists and fake mediums in Europe. One, who could not have known that I was born irt a remote corner of Staffordshire, told me of things which occurred on my third Christmas and which I remembered. He said he could see a little red-breasted bird on a white post—a broad white post—and a broad, stocky “warrior” with a golden beard. My first winter robin—and my father. This savage could not read print, but he could read something in my mind about which I was not consciously thinking. The power of the wizards is still so great that I would be prepared to wager heavy odds the police of Swaziland will never he able to bi-ing the charge home to the clever fiend behind this present Hlatikulu horror. ■There is not a native in the district who dare give him up to justice!