Sitting under a tree with barely enough shade from the dry-season sun, a small group of older men were talking with me outside their traditional homesteads. The discussion turned to ngipian (singular, ekipye), generally translated as spirits, although lightning is a particular form that they or their occurrence take. 'Ekipye can arrest someone at the dam' and the only way out of being stuck there at the dam is to sacrifice. Looking to the north, where hills of rock jutted out of the plain, one was selected for attention by a man only eight years older than myself. 'If you climb Lobel Hill, there is no return without sacrifice' (J31). Gesturing to the north at the volcanic plug, he gave a serious warning. "Because of ekipye, if you point your spear or gun at Lobel, you are pulled.' It was explained that this irreverent action to the spirit of that huge blancmange-shaped lump of rock would, of necessity, result in the offender being drawn to the hill to meet his fate. It was no joking matter, and no jokes were attempted. The efficacy of cause and consequence was not in the least disputed. It was simply the way things are. Nor are the effects limited to Karamojong.