The bright red robes of the Owegbes swirling about her, Ada Kika Emese strode to the witness stand, placed her right hand on a wedge of metal and swore her oath in the name of Ogun, god of iron. In the sweltering court room, citizens in sprawling white robes and gold-embroidered velvet caps listened intently to her testimony, their attention never flagging as they slipped off their sandals and methodically picked their toenails.
Up front, black, British-trained lawyers made their points in the mannered politesse of the Inns of Court, prefacing each objection with a gracious bow to their "learned friend" across the way. The contrasts, vividly symbolic of Africa in the 1960s, were underlined by the subject of the proceedings: a federal investigation of the Owegbe cult, accused of using juju (magic) to try to overthrow the government of the Mid-Western province, smallest of Nigeria's four regions.
Fire, Burn. Even before formation of the Mid-Western province in 1963, Owegbe was active as a kind of Ku Klux Klan to protect backward Beni tribesmen against the political inroads of their more aggressive, better educated neighbors, the Yorubas and the Ibos. When the pushy Ibos captured the post of provincial prime minister in the traditional home of the Benis—Benin City—Owegbe leaders were humiliated and ordered a rampage of terror, filling Nigerian newspapers with stories of Owegbe beatings and intimidations.
Police raided shrines in Benin, discovered banned devices used in juju ceremonies and two human skulls, feeding rumors that the cult engaged in human sacrifice. Finally, last spring, when Chief Dennis Osadebay, the Mid-West's Ibo prime minister, was threatened with death if he did not curb Ibo political activities, the federal government in Lagos decided to step in. Off to Benin went the respected judge D.A.R. Alexander to begin a full-dress federal inquiry.
Witnesses, including the red-swathed Ada Emese, swore that Benis were forced to support Owegbe-backed political candidates, a form of intimidation banned by Nigerian law. To ensure compliance with Owegbe commands, initiates were ushered through a grisly ritual, cut three times on the cheek or chest, then made to eat the heart of a cockerel and down a loathsome liquid potion brewed from kola nuts and wine and the blood, hair, finger and toenails of a dead cultist. They finally bound themselves to Owegbe with 24 oaths, each ending with a chilling refrain: "If I refuse . . . let Owegbe make juju."