by Faun Rice
ering humans masquerading as animals and revealing their true nature, and
turning them into Shilluk clans.
The latter is actually a curious element in the story. Godfrey Lienhardt
(1952) insisted that, unlike Nuer or Dinka heroes, who, as ancestors, created
their people as the fruit of their loins, Nyikang creates the Shilluk as an “intel-
lectual” project. He discovers, transforms, gives names, grants roles and privileg-
es, establishes boundaries, gathers together a diverse group of unrelated people
and animals, and renders them equal parts of a single social order. This is true,
though putting it this way rather downplays the fact that he does so through
right of conquest: that is, that he appears amidst a population of strangers who
have never done anything to hurt him and threatens to kill them if they do
not do his will.30 It is not as if this sort of behavior was considered acceptable
conduct by ordinary people under ordinary circumstances. In most stories, the
figure of Nyikang is saved from too close an association with unprovoked ag-
gression by effectively being redoubled. He plays the largely intellectual role,
solving problems, wielding magic, devising rules and status, while the sheer ar-
bitrary violence is largely pushed off onto his son and alter ego, Dak. In the
Shilluk heartland, especially, Nyikang is always described as “finding” people
who fell from the skies or were living in the country or fishing in the river, and
30. I will return to this point later. Of course, one could argue that this sort of behavior
was considered legitimate in dealing with strangers: Shilluk were notorious raiders,
and were in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries apparently not above acts of
treachery when dealing with Arabs or other foreigners in the “raiding country”—for
instance, offering to ferry caravans across the Nile and then attacking, robbing, or
even massacring them. (At the same time, foreigners who entered Shillukland itself
were treated with scrupulous courtesy and guaranteed the safety of their persons
and property.) Still, as we will see, ordinary Shilluk tended to rankle most of all at
attempts to turn predatory violence into systematic power, which is exactly what
Nyikang was doing here.
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ON KINGS
assigning them a place and a ritual task (to help build the some house or shrine,
to herd Nyikang’s sacred cattle, to supply the king with certain delicacies, etc.).
Only in the case of people who transform themselves into animals—fish, turtles,
fireflies, et al.—does he usually have to call in Dak, to net or spear or otherwise
defeat them, whereon they ordinarily turn back into human beings and submit
themselves. Submission is what renders people Shilluk (the actual word, Chollo,
merely means subjects of the reth).31 Though in a larger sense, intellectual under-
standing and physical conquest are conflated here; the stories of shape-shifters
are paradigmatic: one can only tell what they really are by successfully defeating,
even skewering them—by literally pinning them down.
For all this, Nyikang’s conquest of Shillukland, however, remains curiously
unfinished. The myths specify that he managed to subdue the southern half
of the country, up to about where the capital is now. After this things stalled,
as the people, tired of war, begin to murmur and, increasingly, openly protest
Nyikang’s leadership. Finally, at a feast held at the village of Akurwa (what is
later to become his temple in Fashoda), Nyikang chides his followers, instructs
them on how to maintain his shrine and effigy, and vanishes in a whirlwind of
his own creation.
Nyikang, al Shil uk insist, did not and could never die. He has become the
wind, manifest in animals who behave in strange and uncharacteristic ways,
birds that settle among crowds of people; he periodical y comes, invisible, to
inhabit one or another of his many shrines (C. G. Seligman 1911: 220–26;
1934; Westermann 1912: xlii; Oyler 1918b; Hofmayr 1925: 307; P. P. Howell
and Thomson 1946: 23–24). Above al , he remains immanent in his effigies,
and in the sacred person of the king. Yet in the story, his transcendence of
the bonds of mortal existence fol ows his rejection by the people. Neither is
this mere mumbling and discontent: some versions make clear there was at
least the threat of actual rebel ion. In one (Crazzolara 1951: 126), Nyikang
is speared in the chest by an angry fol ower, though he survives. He then as-
sembles his people to announce his ascent. In every version, he is replaced by
an effigy of ambatch, and remains as the vehicle of the prayers of his people,
31. Westermann (1912: 127–34) summarizes the origins of seventy-four different
clans. If one discounts the three royal lineages included, and the six for whom no
origin is given, we find that forty-nine were descended from “servants” of Nyikang,
six from “servants” of Dak, six of Odak, one of Tokot, and, most surprisingly, three
from servants of Queen Abudok, the last royal figure to play this role—another
testimony to her one-time importance.
THE DIVINE KINGSHIP OF THE SHILLUK
97
as their intercessor before God. It is through Nyikang, for example, that the
king appeals to God for rain (Schnepel 1991: 58–59). Though even here the
relationship of animosity does not disappear. Unlike more familiar gods, who,
by definition, can do no wrong, the hero continues to be the object of periodic
anger and recrimination:
Their veneration of Nikawng does not blind their eyes to his faults. When a
prayer has been offered to Nikawng, and the answer is not given, as had been
hoped, the disappointed one curses Nikawng. That is true especially in the case of
death. When death is approaching, they sacrifice to Nikawng and God, and pray
that death may be averted. If the death occurs, the bereaved ones curse Nikawng,
because he did not exert himself in their behalf. (Oyler 1918a: 285)
This passage gains all the more power when one remembers that illness itself
was often assumed to be caused by the attacks of royal spirits—most often,
Dak—and that mediums possessed by the spirit of Nyikang were the most
common curers. Yet in the end we must die, as Nyikang did not; his transcend-
ence of death resulted from, and perpetuates, a relation of permanent at least
potential antagonism.
In fact, it was not just Nyikang. None of the first four kings of Shillukland
died like normal human beings. Each vanished, their bodies never recovered; all
but the last were then replaced by an effigy. Nyikang was replaced by his timid
elder son Cal, who disappeared in circumstances unknown; then by the impetu-
ous Dak, who vanished in yet another fit of frustration with popular grumbling
over his endless wars of conquest; then, finally, by Dak’s son Nyidoro.
Nyidoro, however, marks a point of transition. He vanished, but only after
death. He was, in fact, murdered by his younger brother Odak, whereon his
body magically disappeared. As a result, there was some debate over whether
he merited a shrine and effigy at all, but in the end it was decided that he did.32
32. An alternative vers
ion from Howell’s notes:
In the past Shilluk kings never died but flew in the air. Now then Odak flew
in the air trying to go away (die), then one man saw him flying. He shouted
“there he goes!” Odak came down and said to the people, from this date no one
of your kings will go away again. They have to be buried, and this is the last
chance of your king. Odak is the person who started the burial of Shilluk king.
(P. P. Howell n.d.: SAD 69/2/48–49)
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ON KINGS
Duwat
Nyikang
Cal
Dak
Nyidoro
Odak
Duwat
The Ororo
The Royal Line
Figure 1. The mythic origins of the Ororo and the Royal line.
N.B.: solid arrows refer to rulers who, rather than dying, vanished and were replaced by
effigies; the broken arrow refers to rulers who died but whose body vanished and was
not replaced by an effigy.
If Nyidoro was the first king to die, his killer and successor, Odak, was the first
to be ritually killed. This, however, was a consequence not of internal conflict (as
in the case of his own usurpation), but of external warfare: Odak was defeated
in a battle with the Dinka and the Fung. After witnessing the death of all of his
sons except one, he threw Nyikang’s sacred spears in the river in a gesture of de-
spair, crying “Now all my sons are dead!” As one might imagine this greatly hurt
the feelings of the one son who remained alive. This young man, named Duwat,
had been often belittled by his father in the past, but this was the final straw.
After promising his father he would degrade all those sons’ children to com-
moners, Duwat snatched one of the spears from the river and single-handedly
routed the enemy (Hofmayr 1925: 66–68, 260–62).
THE DIVINE KINGSHIP OF THE SHILLUK
99
Apparently, Odak was discreetly finished off soon afterwards, and when
Duwat became king, one of his first acts was to degrade the descendants of his
brothers to a lower status than the royal clan. They became the Ororo, excluded
from succession, but who nonetheless play a key role in royal ritual.
The story began with a Duwat, and with this second Duwat, one might say
the first round of the mythic cycle comes to an end. It begins with stories mod-
eled on birth and ends with stories of death: first, the nondeaths of Nyikang
and Dak, rejected by their subjects; then, establishing the two typical modes of
putting an end to a particular holder of the royal office, that is, either through
internal revolt (challenge by an ambitious prince) or being ritually put to death.
The role of the Ororo is crucial. This is a class who represent a veritable insti-
tutionalization of this constitutive relation of hostility, and potential violence, on
which the eternity of the kingdom is founded. General y, the descendants of any
prince who is not elected, should they grow numerous, become a named lineage
within the royal clan, and the tomb of their princely ancestor becomes their line-
age shrine. Al members of such lineages are considered royals. In theory, the king
can degrade any of these branches to Ororo status by attempting to sneak into
their lineage shrine at night and performing certain secret rites, but the shrines are
guarded, and if the king in question is caught, the attempt is considered to have
failed. Some (e.g., Crazzolara 1951: 139) suggest that one reason a king might
wish to demote a royal lineage in this fashion is that, since marriage is forbidden
between royals, it is only by reducing a branch to Ororo status that a king can
then take one of its daughters for his wife.33 One reth (Fadiet) is remembered for
having tried to reduce the descendants of Nyadwai—the famous bad king—to
Ororo status in this way, but he got caught and the lineage remained royal; it’s not
clear if any king—that is, other than Duwat—has ever been successful (Hofmayr
1925: 66; Pumphrey 1941: 12–13; P. P. Howel 1953a: 202). Most sources suggest
none have—another dramatic reflection on the limited power of Shilluk kings.
Moreover, it is precisely this degraded nobility whose role it is to preside
over the death of kings. Male members of the caste who accompany the king
during ceremonies are sometimes referred to as the “royal executioners,” but
here meaning not that they execute others on the king’s orders, but rather
that it is they who are in charge of presiding over the execution of the king.
A reth would always have a certain number of Ororo wives; it is they who are
33. However, Charles and Brenda Seligman (1932: 48) say kings would only take
Ororo wives if they were “unusually attractive,” since no child of an Ororo could
ever become king.
100
ON KINGS
expected to announce when he is sick or failing in his sexual powers; as we’ve
seen, according to some, it is they who actually suffocate the king after the
announcement (C. G. Seligman 1911: 222). In other versions, it is the male
Ororo bodyguards, who also preside over his burial.34 Al sources stress it is
difficult to know anything for sure about such matters, about which discreet
people knew better than to much inquire, and, doubtless, practices varied. The
one thing al agreed, though, was it was critical that the king was constantly
surrounded by those he had original y degraded, and who were eventual y to
kill him.
At this point we have reached historical times, which begin with the long
and prosperous reign of King Bwoc, immediately followed by Tokot, Queen
Abudok, and the historical creation of the sacred kingship at the end of the
seventeenth century. Of this, we have already spoken.
* * *
Still, there is one last story worth telling before moving on. This is the story of
the mar. The mar was some kind of talisman or element of royal regalia that had
originally belonged to Nyikang. By the early twentieth century, no one quite
remembered what it had been: a jewel of some kind, or perhaps a crystal, or a
silver pot. According to some, it was a magical charm capable of assuring victory
in war. According to others, it was a general token of prosperity and royal power
(Hofmayr 1925: 72–75; Paul 1952).
According to Dietrich Westermann (1912: 143–44), the mar was a silver
pot that, waved in front of one’s enemies, caused them to flee the field of bat-
tle. Tokot employed it in many successful wars against the Shilluk’s neighbors,
many of whom he incorporated into Shillukland, but eventually—a familiar
scenario now—his followers grew tired of fighting far from their wives and
families, and began to protest and refuse his orders. In a fit of pique, Tokot
threw the mar into the Nile. Here the story fast-forwards about a half-century
to the reign of Atwot (c. 1825–35), who is elected as a warrior-king on the
behest of a cluster of settlements plagued by Dinka raiders. Atwot attempts to
drive off the invaders but is defeated. So, in a bold move, he decides to retrieve
34. In some versions, the Ororo men are responsible for killing the king “by surprise” if
he is wounded in battle or grievously ill (Hofmayr 1925:178
–80); the women kill
him otherwise.
THE DIVINE KINGSHIP OF THE SHILLUK
101
the talisman. The king consults with the descendants of Tokot’s wives at his lin-
eage shrine, and, defying widespread skepticism, rows out with his companions
to the place where the mar was lost, sacrificing three cows along the way, and
dives to the bottom of the river. He remains underwater so long his companions
think he has surely drowned, but after many hours, he returns with the genuine
article. Atwot proceeds to raise an army, repels and then conquers the Dinka,
and is victorious against all who stand in his path. However, before long, the
same thing begins to happen. He is carried from conquest to conquest, but his
warriors begin protesting the incessant wars, and finally Atwot too throws the
pot back in the river in frustration. There have been no subsequent attempts to
retrieve the mar.35
The story seems to be about why the Shilluk kingdom never became an
empire. It as if every time kings move beyond defending the home territory
or conducting raids beyond its borders, every time they attempt to levy armies
and begin outright schemes of conquest, they find themselves stymied by pro-
tests and passive resistance. To this the kings respond with passive aggression:
vanishing in a huff, throwing precious heirlooms into the river. As we’ll soon
see, the scene of the king sacrificing cows and then diving down into the river
to find a lost object appears to be a reference to a stage in the inauguration
ceremonies in which the candidate must find a piece of wood that will be made
into new body of Nyikang. Yet here, instead of an image of eternity, the river
becomes an image of loss. According to one source (Paul 1952), the mar was
“the luck of the Shilluk,” now forever lost. It seems likely the debate over the
nature of the mar reflected a more profound debate about whether military
good fortune was always luck for the Shilluk as a whole—a question on which
royal and popular perspectives are likely often to have differed sharply. And the
fact that such arguments were said to be going on in the time of Tokot, in the
generation immediately before the creation of the institutions of sacred king-
ship, once again underlines how much debate there was at that time about the
