MANY OF the shamans of old — as of now — were masters of sham. Their trickery included such skills as sleight-of-hand illusions, subtle or spectacular theatrics of boggling variety, and an ability to create through these and other strategems a belief in their tribespeople of spooks and spirits.
Occasionally their power over their fellows was extraordinary. Take the example of an Eskimo shaman named Najagneq, who lived at the turn of the last century. The Danish scholar and explorer Knud Rasmussen encountered him in Nome just after the shaman had been released from a year in jail. It seems that the year before, in his distant village, and for reasons which history has not made clear to us, Najagneq made of his hut a fortress and from there — alone — waged war on his entire village. He killed seven or eight people. He was ultimately captured by the cleverness of a captain of a ship and taken to Nome, Alaska.
Ten witnesses of his killings were fetched from his settlement and brought to court to testify against him. Much as they would have liked to see him "get his," as it were, once confronted with him in court, and again encountered by his small, piercing, yet wildly roving eyes, each of them lowered his own eyes in shame, and the charges against Najagneq were dropped.
One possible conclusion: If you want to get away with stuff, become a shaman according to the traditions of your own people.
