Possession, Demoniacal And Other

by T K Oesterreich

  A little later Frobenius feels able to explain more exactly these statements of the natives.

  At the moment when the babaku makes the man ill, the latter utters cries and falls in convulsions. His face is distorted and he makes convulsive movements. He later falls into a condition of lethargy. It must obviously be understood from this that the babaku throws him to the ground and goes on his way. If he lies there apathetically they say that the babaku has gone on his way….2

  His family, to which he returns in this state, awake (this certainly means from the lethargy) but ill, can do nothing aright with him. As soon as the cause of the affair is known to be an alledjenu the family goes to seek the gusulfa, that is to say the “old woman” who has the functions of magadja (priestess) in the Bori (an African religious animism). The latter receives the sick man and summons her partner, the adjingi (priest). Neither can do anything without the other. There is between the two a remarkable relationship which is in strict agreement with the fact that according to the legend the Djengere and Magadja are bound together, so that neither can accomplish anything without the other….

  Thus our patient is taken by his family to the gusulfa and the latter calls in the adjingi. She asks the family for a red cock…. She prepares the ceremony of the fire and smoke while the adjingi goes into the bush and gathers all the roots and ingredients necessary for the cure.

  A certain broth is then prepared for the sick man. He must also inhale a certain smoke.

  But the most important thing is when the sick man is wrought upon through the sense of hearing.

  … A goye-player, a violinist (otherwise a guitar-player) is summoned. When he plays before the patient he must reproduce in music the names of the various alledjenus. According to the ancient rite each alledjenu had, indeed, his tones, concords, harmony, and melody. It was a musical language, just as there still exists to-day a flute-language and a drum-language.

  Thus the goye-player expresses in notes the name of the alledjenu. And when the name of the one who has brought the sick man to such an evil pass is pronounced, he returns and fills the man from head to foot.1

  Or as Frobenius has described it again and more exactly later:

  … When the music, be it of the violin or guitar, speaks the name of the alledjenu again, the sick man once more cries out, falls into convulsions and manifests great excitement, but relapses once more into a state of the most complete indifference. And all this seems to mean that the babaku has again filled him from head to foot and then left him.2

  After it has been recognized which alledjenu is concerned, the adjingi rubs the patient with medicine and the sitting continues day and night for seven days to the sound of the violin and the beating of the calabash.

  Three days later the patient is carried into the bush and washed.

  Then the babaku who possessed that man or woman departs.3

  That we are dealing here, as Frobenius thinks, with “a sort of epileptic state,” does not appeal to me as probable, and these fits from the way in which they come on and disappear rather produce the impression of depending on external suggestive conditions. This is in perfect agreement with what Frobenius relates of the solemn sacrifice which takes place three days after the expulsion of the babaku; on this occasion sundry onlookers fall into similar states which, however, seem to disappear promptly of their own accord.

  Three days later comes the sacrifice of a white ram.… It is killed, cooked and eaten, and after this repast there occur great dances and protracted rejoicings, during the course of which the second essential part of the cult is accomplished, when very often one of the farifarus suddenly inspires one after another of the onlookers. They start to execute violent leaps, pirouette in the air, and suddenly drop to the ground on their back. It is this part of the ceremony which is sometimes turned into an amusement by the Bori people; the sacred dances degenerate into triviality…. As a matter of fact, this dance is all that the people show to strangers. But the essential part of inspiration by the farifarus (white spirits), greatly desired by the people of Bori, resides in the prophetic spirit which takes possession of the dancers.4

  A fact showing yet more clearly the autosuggestive character of these states is that they occur when the people of Bori indulge in the forbidden use of beer.

  The people of Bori and Asama drink no beer. When a follower of Bori takes beer, the alledjenu swoops down upon him like the wind. His eyes are filled with darkness. Then the alledjenu has seized him; the man falls as if dead.1

  For his restoration to health a ceremony similar to that described is carried out. The possibility that some of these states may be of a true epileptic character is naturally not excluded; it is to be presumed that epileptic fits originally served as a model for the autosuggestive states and that the latter are an imitation of them. However that may be, it is untrue to say that nothing except epileptic fits occurs.

  Entirely analogous to the C. St. case of Eschenmayer already cited are the declarations that “each spirit is like a wind, is itself a wind,” and that “when someone is overthrown by a spirit of Bori in a storm of wind, he at first lies as if dead.”2 This means that a gust of wind, supposedly animated, may determine the fit in a predisposed person, in the same way that Eschenmayer’s patient believed her possession to have been occasioned by a gust blowing over her.

  Here is a case slightly more detailed. It comes from Abyssinia and is reported by Waldmeier of the Bâle Missionary Society, who writes:

  It often happens in Abyssinia that people seem possessed by an evil Spirit. The Abyssinians call it Boudah. I witnessed these wonderful and dark occurrences many times, but will relate one only—and even in this case I must not describe the most horrible and disgusting details. One evening when I was in my house at Gaffat, a woman began to cry out fearfully and run up and down the road on her hands and feet like a wild beast, quite unconscious of what she was doing. The people said to me: “This is the Boudah; and if it is not driven out of her, she will die.” A large number of people gathered round her, and many means were tried, but all in vain. She was always howling and roaring in an unnatural and most powerful voice. At length a man was called, a blacksmith by profession, of whom it was said that he was in secret connection with the evil spirit. He called the woman, who obeyed him at once. He took her hand in his and dropped the juice of the white onion or garlic into her nose, and said to her—or rather to the evil spirit which possessed her:

  “Why didst thou possess this poor woman?” “Because I was allowed to do so.” “What is thy name?” “My name is Gebroo.” “Where is thy country?” “My country is Godjam.” “How many people didst thou take possession of?” “I took possession of forty people, men and women.” “Now I command thee to leave this woman.” “I will leave her on one condition.” “What is that condition?” “I want to eat the flesh of a donkey.” “Very well,” said the man,“thou mayst have that.”

  So a donkey was brought which had a wounded back from carrying heavy loads, and its back was quite sore and full of matter. The woman then ran upon the donkey and bit the flesh out of the poor creature’s back; and though the donkey kicked and ran off, she did not fall down, but clung to it just as if she was nailed on the animal’s back. The man called the woman back to him, and said to the evil spirit: “Now art thou satisfied?” “Not yet,” was the reply, and a disgusting mixture was asked for, which was prepared for the woman and put down in a secret place which she could not see; but when the man said to her, “Go and look for your drink,” she ran on all fours like an animal to that very place and drank the whole potful to the very last drop. Then she came back to the man, who said again: “Now take up this stone.” It was a very large stone which she would not have been able to move in her natural condition, but she took it up with ease upon her head, and turned round like a wheel until the stone flew off on one side and she on the other on the ground. The man then said: “Take her now away to bed, for the Boudah has left her.” The poor woman slept for
about ten hours, and awoke and went to her work, and did not know anything of that which had passed over her, nor what she did and said.1

  From East Africa Dannholz reports the following:

  Deceitful spirits give the mpepo sickness, which seems to be a sort of possession. This malady particularly affects women, and is considered as a noble and distinguished affliction. Hysteria perhaps plays some part in it, although various phenomena are not capable of explanation by hysteria. Many persons affected speak in a strange voice, the women in a deep bass or in a foreign tongue, Swaheli or English, although they neither understand nor speak it. After the arrival of the “spirit” who operates in the sick person, the people speak of mpepo ya mzuka, possession by the vampire, ya-ijeni, by a kind of spirit related to the mzuka, ya Msuaheli, by the male of the Swaheli, ya Mringa, by the Masai, ya Mkamba, by the male of the Kamba, ya Mzungu, by the Europeans, and also ya nkoma, generally by the spirit of a dead person. Abnormal eagerness for food, pepper, and other strong condiments as well as for bright, gaily-coloured clothing and other showy things characterizes possession. On request the “spirit” sometimes relates the story of his life, boasts of his crimes, indulges in the most filthy language, and suddenly the possessed is seized by a fit of rage punctuated by convulsions. To the rhythm of the mpepo drum she dances in a wild and terrifying manner until completely exhausted, after which she feels a temporary relief. The malady breaks out in epidemic form, descends upon whole regions, and even spreads from the coast into the interior. It was not known in former times, but seems to have made a recent appearance in East Africa. It has been observed that Christian natives are not subject to it, and in Mbaga various persons sick of the mpepo have been cured by the words of our Christians, by prayer and a sober train of life. The heathen never offer victims to the deceitful spirits, but rather drive them out of the sick by exorcism, although the use of sacrifice is beginning to be rumoured.2

  Part of this description might well have been taken from the account of no matter what case of possession in Central Europe, so completely do the states correspond. The remark that possession in East Africa comes on in epidemic form is interesting. Given the great suggestibility of primitive peoples, spiritual epidemics must generally be frequent amongst them, but unfortunately we possess up to the present very few accounts.

  Here is, however, a note on the suggestive effect of possession in Madagascar:

  In Madagascar the saccare were evil demons by whom men and women were possessed. Flacourt reports: “They appear in the form of a fiery dragon and torment men for ten to fifteen days. When that occurs a sword is put into their hand and they take to dancing and leaping with strange and unrestrained movements. The men and women of the village surround the possessed man or woman and dance with him, making the same movements in order, so they say, to relieve the sick person. Often there are in the crowd possessed persons who are seized by the diabolic spirit, and this sometimes happens to a great number.”1

  It may be assumed without further ado that these “possessed “were not so previously but became so while accompanying the sick person.

  We are particularly well informed as to the states of possession observable amongst the Ba-Ronga (near Delagoa Bay) in South-East Africa, who are amongst the most carefully studied of the African tribes. We are indebted to the missionary Henri A. Junod2 for a thorough general investigation of their manners and customs.

  Amongst the Ba-Ronga possessing spirits are never those of the tribal ancestors, but of those of the Zulus or the Ba-Ndjao.

  It seems that states of possession first appeared amongst the Zulus; perhaps they coincided with the always sensational departure of the young men who went to work in the diamond mines of Kimberley or the gold mines of Johannesburg or Natal, and who travelled through the regions inhabited by the Zulus.1

  It seems that these Ba-Ronga travellers were quite often possessed by Zulu spirits.2

  Possession by the Ndjao seems to be more malignant than by the Zulus. The possessed may be recognized by a string of beads which they wear on the head or around it.3

  This disease has spread enormously amongst the Thonga (the group of peoples in South-East Africa to which the Ba-Ronga belong) in the last thirty years. It is said to have been very rare, even unknown, previously; since then it has become quite an epidemic, although it is actually rather on the decrease. Possession is more frequent amongst the Ba-Ronga than in the Northern clans.4

  Junod describes possession as falling like a bolt from the blue on to the victims:

  I have carefully studied the history of many cases of possession amongst the Ba-Ronga (see Bulletin de la Société Neuchdteloise de Géographie, tome x, p. 388). Most of them have begun by a distinct crisis, in which the patient was unconscious, but which does not seem to have been brought about by any previous nervous trouble.5

  I will now give full details of the case of Mboza, who was himself possessed at one time, and later on became a regular exorcist. After having worked in Kimberley for some time, he returned home in good health. But soon afterwards, he was lame for six months. He attributed his difficulty in walking to rheumatism (shifambo). There was some improvement in his condition, but he began to feel other symptoms: he lost his appetite and almost completely ceased to eat. Here is his testimony: “One day, having gone with another young man to gather juncus, in order to manufacture a mat, the psikwembu started at once in me” (ndji sunguleka hi psikwembu psikañwe). I came back home, trembling in all my limbs. I entered the hut; but suddenly I arose to my feet and began to attack the people of the village; then I ran away, followed by my friends, who seized me and at once the spirits were scattered (hangalaka). When conscious again, I was told I had hurt a Khehla (a man with the wax crown, i, p. 129), and had struck other people on the back: “He!” said they, “he has the gods” (or he is sick from the gods, a ni psikwembu).6

  The decision as to whether possession really exists in so doubtful a case depends in the last resort not at all upon the symptoms presented by the suspected person but upon a kind of game of dice. Suspicious symptoms are specially persistent pain in the side and particularly loud and irrepressible hiccupings. The diagnosis is almost sure as soon as an apparently groundless aversion is manifested. But when the various bones which are thrown into the air as dice arrange themselves in a certain way, the suspicions are considered as verified or else as unfounded. In the first case the name of the exorcist is chosen from those available (they are called gobela) by means of the dice. These are even used to fix the order of the exorcist’s operations and the remedy to be applied.1

  “In former times, the only remedy was waving a large palmleaf (milala) in front of the patient. This was deemed sufficient to ‘scatter the spirits.’ Now the treatment is much more complicated.”2 In the first place a medicine, the composition of which does not here concern us, is administered to the patient. After he has taken it, he must spit to the four quarters of the wind, pronouncing the sacred syllable tson, which has the power of moving spirits and begging life from them. Then a prayer is addressed to the gods.

  To this very peaceful first part of the exorcism is added a veritable witches’ sabbath with tambourines, conducted according to the results of a new casting of the dice.

  In the hut, right in the centre, sits the patient. Melancholy, with downcast eyes and fixed glance; he is waiting…. Everyone in the district knows that to-day, this evening, when the new moon appears, the strange and terrible conjuration will take place. All who have ever been possessed are present. The master of the proceedings, the “gobela,” whom the bones have designated, holds in his hands his tambourine, the skin of one of the great monitor lizards common among the hills, stretched on a circular wooden framework. In the beautifully calm evening air and as if to contrast hideously with the sun sinking in purple glory, the first tap resounds. It radiates, stretches on every side, travels through the thickets to the surrounding villages, and then there is sensation, an outburst of joy, made up of curiosity, malic
e, I know not what unconscious satisfaction. Everyone hastens up at this well-known sound, all hurry towards the hut of the possessed, and all desire to take part in this struggle, this struggle against the invisible world. Several persons are gathered there, some with their tambourines, some with great zinc drums picked up in the vicinity of the town … others with calabashes filled with small objects which are shaken and make a noise like rattles … and now, crowding round the patient, they begin to beat, brandish, and shake as violently as possible these various instruments of torture. Some graze the head and ears of the unhappy man. There is a frightful din which lasts through the night, with short interruptions, and until the performers in this fantastic concert are overcome by fatigue.

  But this is only the orchestra, the accompaniment to which must be added, and it is of the greatest importance, singing, the human voice, the chorus of exorcists, a short refrain following a yet shorter solo, but which is repeated a hundred, nay a thousand times, always to the same end for which all work seriously and doggedly: that of forcing this spiritual being, this mysterious spirit which is present, to reveal himself, to make known his name … after which his evil influence will be exorcised. These chants are at once naïf and poetic. They are addressed to the spirit, extolling him, seeking to flatter him, to win him over, in order to gain from him the signal favour of giving himself up. Here is the first of those which I heard … one day when I was travelling and when, hearing a tremendous din behind the bushes, I jumped out of my waggon and fell into the very midst of a scene of exorcism:

  Chibendjana! u vukela bantu!

  (Rhinoceros, thou attackest men!)

  vociferated the singers around a poor woman who seemed lost in I know not what unconscious dream. My arrival hardly abated this infernal racket, notwithstanding the fact that the appearance of a white is generally an event in the villages of this district.