Thinking black; 22 years without a break in the long grass of Central ...

82
THINKING BLACK
son. A tiny thing proved the clue, and soon this hidden
horror was heard crying out to Heaven as loud as the
blood of Abel The whole thing would have been hid
one of the many mysteries of the marshes—had not a
young woman died at Chisenga, the usual Nanga being called
in to consult the oracle as to cause of death. This old
" borderland professional " (their local title, this) was not
lacking in the true bloodhound instinct of scentino; a trail.
Ringing up the underworld for information, the oracle
himself replied that the girl had died a natural death, yet
some other dead people were crying from the ground for
vengeance. And now the " devil-doctor " turns fierce on
his clients and upbraids them for hiding even a little from
him :
** Confess and I absolve," cried he. '* Look at the
poisonous cassava we eat as tribal diet : by soaking it in
water it loses its deadly effect, and so, too, with that bitter
secret of murder in your breast, pour it out to your priest
and it will lose its sting !
" But still they are obdurate,
so the old doctor snaps his fingers at them, says that he
is a man of many means, and again rings up the oracle,
with the result that it all comes out. For during her
illness that dying woman had received kindly care from
her husband, and among other things he robed her in a
fancy red shawl. " Now," said the wily Nanga dramati-
cally, "that shawl was a blood-shawl." And sure enough
in two ticks he pieced together the genuine data of a
triple murder and plunder from this shawl clue. (If one
may speak of the light of conscience, then they have got it
—just enough to light them to Hell !). The murderer