Voodoo

We are in a village somewhere in southern Africa a few hundred years ago. All the villagers, men, women and children, stand in a long line, facing forwards with their tongues out. Along the line of thousands comes the witch-doctor with a red hot spear to touch the offered tongue. At this very high temperature, the spear head, glowing orange, will bounce off a wet tongue but stick, to terrible effect, to a dry one. Whoever has a dry tongue and mouth must be very afraid and so, obviously, guilty. At least, that is the common wisdom at this time and in this place. Those whose tongues burn are immediately put to death by two strong men who break their necks as soon as the chief, sitting on his throne, nods his agreement. He almost always does.