These albinoes are, ipso facto, her priests
and priestesses, and in old days an albino had only to name anywhere
a person Aynfwa wished for, and that person was forthwith killed.
I think I may safely say that every dangerous place in West Africa
is regarded as the residence of a god - rocks and whirlpools in the
rivers - swamps "no man fit to pass" - and naturally, the surf. Along
the Gold Coast, at every place where you have to land through the
surf, it fairly swarms with gods. A little experience with the said
surf inclines you to think, as the dabblers in spiritualism say
"that there is something in it." I will back this West Coast surf -
"the Calemma," as we call it down South, against any other
malevolent abomination, barring only the English climate. Its ways
of dealing with human beings are cunning and deceitful. In its most
ferocious moods it seizes a boat, straightway swamps it, and feeds
its pet sharks with the boat's occupants. If the surf is merely
sky-larking it lets your boat's nose just smell the sand, and then
says "Thought you were all right this time, did you though," and
drags the boat back again under the incoming wave, or catches it
under the stern and gaily throws it upside down over you and yours
on the beach. Variety, they say, is charming. Let those who say
it, and those who believe it, just do a course of surf-work, and
I'll warrant they will change their minds.
There is one thing about the surf that I do not understand, and that
is why witches always walk stark naked along the beach by it at
night, and eat sea crabs the while. That such is a confirmed habit
of theirs is certain; and they tell me that while doing this the
witches emit a bright light, and also that there is a certain
medicine, which, if you have it with you, you can throw over the
witch, and then he, or she, will remain blazing until morning time,
running to and fro, crying out wildly, in front of the white,
breaking, thundering surf wall, and when the dawn comes the fire
burns the witch right up, leaving only a grey ash - and palaver set
in this world and the next for that witch.
A highly-esteemed native minister told me when I was at Cape Coast
last, that a fortnight before, he had been away in the Apollonia
district on mission work. One evening he and a friend were walking
along the beach and the night was dark, so that you could see only
the surf. It is never too dark to see that, it seems to have light
in itself. They saw a flame coming towards them, and after a
moment's doubt they knew it was a witch, and feeling frightened, hid
themselves among the bushes that edge the sandy shore. As they
watched, it came straight on and passed them, and they saw it
disappear in the distance.
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