Forest of the Pygmies(39)



The hunters told them about the old days before Kosongo, when Nana-Asante had reigned in Ngoubé. In that time there was no gold and no traffic in ivory. The Bantus earned a livelihood from coffee, which they took downriver to sell in the cities, and the Pygmies stayed most of the year in the forest, hunting. The Bantus cultivated vegetables and cassava, which they traded to the Pygmies for meat. They celebrated the same festivals. They shared the same poverty, but at least they were free. Sometimes boats came bringing things from the city, but the Bantus bought very little—they were too poor—and the Pygmies weren't interested. The government had forgotten them, although from time to time they sent a nurse with vaccines, or a teacher with the idea of starting a school, or an official who promised to install electricity. They soon left; they couldn't live that far from civilization. They got sick; they went mad. The only ones who had stayed were Commandant Mbembelé and his men.

"And the missionaries?" Nadia asked.

"They were strong, and they stayed, too. But by the time they came, Nana-Asante was already gone. Mbembelé ordered them out, but they didn't leave. They tried to help our tribe. Then they disappeared," the hunters reported.

"Like the queen," Alexander noted.

"No, not like the queen…" they replied, but they didn't want to explain any further.





CHAPTER TEN

The Village of the Ancestors




FOR NADIA AND ALEXANDER, IT was a very long night in the forest. The night before they had been at Kosongo's celebration, then Nadia had visited the Pygmy slave women, stolen the amulet, and set fire to the royal hut before leaving the village, so the night hadn't seemed long. This one seemed eternal. Beneath the treetops light faded early and returned late. For more than ten hours, they were huddled together in the hunters' pathetic shelters, enduring dampness, insects, and the proximity of wild animals—none of which disturbed the Pygmies, who feared nothing but ghosts.

The first light of dawn found Nadia, Alexander, and Borobá awake and hungry. Nothing remained of the roasted antelope but burned bones, and they didn't dare eat more fruit because it had given them stomach cramps. They were determined not to think about food. Soon the Pygmies were awake, too, and they talked among themselves in their language for a long time. Since they didn't have a chief, decisions required hours of discussion spent sitting in a circle, but once they reached an agreement, they acted as one. Thanks to her amazing gift for languages, Nadia captured the general sense of the conference. Alexander, on the other hand, caught only a few names: Ngoubé, Ipemba-Afua, Nana-Asante. Finally the animated discussion ended, and the young people were informed of the plan.

The smugglers would be coming to get the ivory—or the Pygmies' children—in a couple of days. That meant they would have to attack Ngoubé within a time frame of thirty-six hours. First, and most important, they decided, was to hold a ceremony with the sacred amulet and ask for the protection of their ancestors and of Ezenji, the great spirit of the forest, life, and death.

"Will we be anywhere near the village of the ancestors when we go to Ngoubé?" Nadia asked.

Beyé-Dokou confirmed that in fact the ancestors lived in a place between the river and Ngoubé. It was several hours' travel from where they were at the moment. Alexander remembered that when his grandmother Kate was a young woman backpacking around the world, she often slept in cemeteries because they were so safe; no one came there at night. The village of the ghosts was the perfect place to prepare for their attack on Ngoubé. They would be a short distance from their objective and completely safe; Mbembelé and his soldiers would never come near the place.

"This is a very special moment, the most important moment in the history of your tribe. I think you should hold the ceremony in the village of the ancestors," Alexander suggested.

The hunters were dumbfounded at the total ignorance of the young foreigner, and asked if perhaps in his country they had no respect for their ancestors. Alexander had to admit that in the United States ancestors occupied an insignificant place in the social scale. The Pygmies explained that the home of the spirits was a forbidden place; no human could enter there without perishing immediately. They went only to take their dead. When someone in the tribe died, a ceremony was held that lasted one day and one night. Then the eldest women wrapped the corpse in rags and leaves, bound it with rope made of bark fibers—the same they used for their nets—and carried the dead to rest with the ancestors. They approached the village with all haste, deposited their burden, and ran away as quickly as they could. This was always done in the morning, in the full light of day, after many sacrifices. Morning was the only safe time, since the ghosts slept during the day and came to life by night. If the ancestors were treated with the proper respect, they never bothered humans, but when they were offended they were unforgiving. The spirits were feared more than the gods. They were closer.

Angie Ninderera had told Nadia and Alexander that in Africa there is a permanent relationship between human beings and the spiritual world.

"African gods are more compassionate and reasonable than the gods of other peoples," she had told them. "They do not punish like the Christian god. They do not have a hell where souls suffer for all eternity. The worst thing that can happen to an African soul is to be lost and alone, forever roaming. An African god would never send his only son to die on a cross in order to redeem the human sins he can erase with a single gesture. African gods did not create humans in their image, nor do they love them, but at least they leave people in peace. The spirits, in contrast, are more dangerous because they have the same defects people have: They're greedy, cruel, and jealous. They have to be brought gifts to be kept happy. Fortunately they don't ask for much: a splash of liquor, a cigarette, the blood of a rooster."

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