One could gather hundreds of terrible stories of the like kind with much variety of detail; but the same principle runs through all. We heard of a case where, on the Nganga making his declaration, the witch-man went into his house close by, fetched his gun, and shot the witch-doctor dead on the spot. He had to pay twenty slaves to the friends of the Nganga; but no one ventured further to trouble that witch.
Sometimes, and in some places, the witch-doctor is called in in case of sickness only, and witches are killed to stay the sickness; and again at the death of the person, sometimes even in the case of a baby. A serious accident—as drowning, a fall from a palm-tree, or the death of a chief—is considered the work of several witches; one alone could not accomplish such a thing. Six men of the Vivi towns were drowned through the upsetting of a canoe in the rapids, and three witches were found for each man; eighteen victims had to suffer for the death of those six men—twenty-four deaths in all.
Even when the victim vomits, and should be free, they sometimes find an excuse to finish the work.
‘But why,’ you ask, ‘did you kill Mpanzu? What did he do to the man who died? Did any one see him do it?’
‘Oh, Mundele! why do you ask such questions? Did not Nganga-a-ngombo ascertain by his witch-charms? Did he not tell us how he did it? And when he took the ordeal and swooned, was not his guilt proved? Why, we should all say that any one who dared to question such a decision must be himself a witch!’
‘But what does a witch do—how does he do it?’
‘How do I know? I am not a witch. Why, if we did not kill our witches we should all die in no time! What would check them?’