White men, do you wonder that the words, “Botofe bo lē iwa” (“Rubber is death”) passed into a proverb amongst us, and that we hated the very name of rubber with a deadly hatred? The only ones who were kind to us in those days were the white men of God. They visited our villages frequently to teach us and our families, and sometimes on their journeys they would meet with us in the forest, and stop for awhile to talk to us. “Come,” they said; “listen to the words of God, the news of salvation.” We came, and they told us the same story of Jesus and salvation from sin; it is a good story, and we liked to hear it. But we would say, “White man, you bring us news of salvation from sin; when will you bring us news of salvation from rubber? If you brought that, then we should have time to listen to and think about your other news.” Then came a time of awful pestilence, so terrible that we do not understand or even mention it, lest we ourselves be smitten like others. When we speak of it we call it the “sickness from above” or the “sickness of heaven”; but the white men, who are not afraid to mention it, call it smallpox. It raged in all our villages, and spread from hut to hut like a fire. We took our sick ones into the forest, and a few people who had recovered from the disease many years before went to look after them. Crowds of people died, and though some recovered, they were very weak and ill after it. The white men of God put some medicine into the arms of many of our people. It was cut in with a needle, but we did not understand it, and most of us refused to have it done, as we thought it would hurt. But we noticed that many of those who did take the medicine did not get the sickness, or at least only slightly. In the midst of it all one of our own witch-doctors arose and announced that a cure had been revealed to him, and as he himself was immune from the disease, he would come and put his medicine on all who were prepared to pay his fee. He made an itineration through all the villages with much singing, dancing, and shaking of rattles, and in each village he took up a stand to administer his medicine to all who would pay. The sick people were brought out of the bush, the suspected cases from the huts, and the strong ones in the villages came also, and all were anointed with the medicine on payment of a brass rod. Such crowds there were; very few refused, I think only the children of God, and they did it in spite of much opposition. Their relatives tried to persuade them to take it, but when the witch-doctor heard of and asked the reason of their refusal, and was told that it was because they were children of God, he said, “Leave them alone; if that is the palaver, it is of no use to persuade them; they will never give in.”