Magic, Inc

Uh ... Doctor,' I suggested, hadn't we better complete our arrangements before you start to work?'

Arrangements?' He looked momentarily puzzled, then smiled broadly. Oh, you mean payment. My dear sir, it is a privilege to do a favour for Mrs Jennings.'

But ... but ... see here, Doctor, I'd feel better about it. I assure you I am quite in the habit of paying for magic-'

He held up a hand. It is not possible, my young friend, for two reasons: In the first place, I am not licensed to practise in your state. In the second place, I am not a magician.'

I suppose I looked as inane as I sounded. Huh? What's that? Oh! Excuse me, Doctor. I guess I just naturally assumed that since Mrs Jennings had sent you, and your title, and all-'

He continued to smile, but it was a smile of understanding rather than amusement at my discomfiture. That is not surprising; even some of your fellow citizens of my blood make that mistake. No, my degree is an honorary doctor of laws of Cambridge University. My proper pursuit is anthropology, which I sometimes teach at the University of South Africa. But anthropology has some odd bypaths; I am here to exercise one of them.'

Well, then, may I ask-'

Certainly, sir. My avocation, freely translated from its quite unpronounceable proper name, is "witch smeller .'

I was still puzzled. But doesn't that involve magic?'

Yes and no. In Africa the hierarchy and the categories in these matters are not the same as in this continent. I am not considered a wizard, or witch doctor, but rather an antidote for such.'

Something had been worrying Jedson. Doctor,' he inquired, you were not originally from South Africa?'

Worthington gestured towards his own face. I suppose that Jedson read something there that was beyond my knowledge. As you have discerned. No, I was born in a bush tribe south of the Lower Congo.'

From there, eh? That's interesting. By any chance, are you nganga?'

Of the Ndembo, but not by chance.' He turned to me and explained courteously. Your friend asked me if I was a member of an occult fraternity which extends throughout Africa, but which has the bulk of its members in my native territory. Initiates are called nganga.'

Jedson persisted in his interest. It seems likely to me, Doctor, that Worthington is a name of convenience - that you have another name.'

You are again right - naturally. My tribal name - do you wish to know it?'

If you will.'

It is' - I cannot reproduce the odd clicking, lip-smacking noise he uttered - or it is just as proper to state it in English, as the meaning is what counts - Man-Who-Asks-Inconvenient- Questions. Prosecuting attorney is another reasonably idiomatic, though not quite literal, translation, because of the tribal functions implied. But it seems to me,' he went on, with a smile of unmalicious humour, that the name fits you even better than it does me. May I give it to you?'

Here occurred something that I did not understand, except that it must have its basis in some African custom completely foreign to our habits of thought. I was prepared to laugh at the doctor's witticism, and I am sure he meant it to be funny, but Jedson answered him quite seriously:

I am deeply honoured to accept.'

It is you who honour me, brother.'

From then on, throughout our association with him, Dr Worthington invariably addressed Jedson by the African name he had formerly claimed as his own, and Jedson called him brother' or Royce'. Their whole attitude towards each other underwent a change, as if the offer and acceptance of a name had in fact made them brothers, with all of the privileges and obligations of the relationship.

I have not left you without a name,' Jedson added. You had a third name, your real name?'

Yes, of course,' Worthington acknowledged, a name which we need not mention.'

Naturally,' Jedson agreed, a name which must not be mentioned. Shall we get to work, then?'

Yes, let us do so.' He turned to me. Have you some place here where I may make my preparations? It need not be large-'

Will this do?' I offered, getting up and opening the door of a cloak- and washroom which adjoins my office.

Nicely, thank you,' he said, and took himself and his briefcase inside, closing the door after him. He was gone ten minutes at least.

Jedson did not seem disposed to talk, except to suggest that I caution my girl not to disturb us or let anyone enter from the outer office. We sat and waited.

Then he came out of the cloakroom, and I got my second big surprise of the day. The urbane Dr Worthington was gone. In his place was an African personage who stood over six feet tall in his bare black feet, and whose enormous, arched chest was overlaid with thick, sleek muscles of polished obsidian. He was dressed in a loin skin of leopard, and carried certain accoutrements, notably a pouch, which hung at his waist.

But it was not his equipment that held me, nor yet the John Henrylike proportions of that warrior frame, but the face. The eyebrows were painted white and the hairline had been outlined in the same colour, but I hardly noticed these things. It was the expression - humourless, implacable, filled with a dignity and strength which must be felt to be appreciated. The eyes gave a conviction of wisdom beyond my comprehension, and there was no pity in them - only a stem justice that I myself would not care to face.

We white men in this country are inclined to underestimate the black man - I know I do - because we see him out of his cultural matrix. Those we know have had their own culture wrenched from them some generations back and a servile pseudo culture imposed on them by force. We forget that the black man has a culture of his own, older than ours and more solidly grounded, based on character and the power of the mind rather than the cheap, ephemeral tricks of mechanical gadgets. But it is a stern, fierce culture with no sentimental concern for the weak and the unfit, and it never quite dies out.

I stood up in involuntary respect when Dr Worthington entered the room.

Let us begin,' he said in a perfectly ordinary voice, and squatted down, his great toes spread and grasping the floor. He took several things out of the pouch - a dog's tail, a wrinkled black object the size of a man's fist, and other things hard to identify. He fastened the tail to his waist so that it hung down behind. Then he picked up one of the things that he had taken from the pouch - a small item, wrapped and tied in red silk - and said to me, Will you open your safe?'

I did so, and stepped back out of his way. He thrust the little bundle inside, clanged the door shut, and spun the knob. I looked inquiringly at Jedson.

He has his ... well .. . soul in that package, and has sealed it away behind cold iron. He does not know what dangers he may encounter,' Jedson whispered. See?' I looked and saw him pass his thumb carefully all around the crack that joined the safe to its door.

He returned to the middle of the floor and picked up the wrinkled black object and rubbed it affectionately. This is my mother's father,' he announced. I looked at it more closely and saw that it was a mummified human head with a few wisps of hair still clinging to the edge of the scalp! He is very wise,' he continued in a matter-of-fact voice, and I shall need his advice. Grandfather, this is your new son and his friend.' Jedson bowed, and I found myself doing so. They want our help.'

He started to converse with the head in his own tongue, listening from time to time, and then answering. Once they seemed to get into an argument, but the matter must have been settled satisfactorily, for the palaver soon quieted down. After a few minutes he ceased talking and glanced around the room. His eye lit on a bracket shelf intended for an electric fan, which was quite high off the floor.