Forest of the Pygmies(53)

As for Nadia, she was instructing Beyé-Dokou's wife, Jena, how to disable the rifles with the resin. Once Jena understood what was expected of her, she trotted off with her tiny little girl steps toward the soldiers' barracks without further questions or comments. She was so small and insignificant, so quiet and discreet, that no one noticed the fierce gleam of vengeance in her chestnut-colored eyes.





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Brother Fernando learned the fate of the missing missionaries through Nzé. Though he had suspected it, the shock of finding his fears confirmed was traumatic. The missionaries had come to Ngoubé for the purpose of spreading their faith, and nothing could dissuade them, not threats, not the hellish climate, not the solitude in which they lived. Kosongo had kept them well isolated, but gradually they had begun to win the confidence of a few villagers, which brought down the wrath of the king and Mbembelé. When they overtly began to oppose the abuse suffered by the Bantus and to intercede for the Pygmy slaves, the commandant put them and their belongings into a canoe and shipped them off downriver. A week later, however, the brothers returned, more determined than ever. Within a few days they disappeared. The official version was that they had never been in Ngoubé. The soldiers burned the few things they owned, and it was forbidden to speak their names. It was no mystery to anyone, however, that the missionaries had been murdered, and that their bodies had been thrown into the pond of the crocodiles. No trace of them remained.

"They're martyrs, true saints; they will never be forgotten," Brother Fernando promised, drying the tears running down his gaunt cheeks.

At about three P.M. Angie returned. She was nearly unrecognizable. Her hair was combed into a tower of curls and gold and glass beads that brushed the ceiling. Her skin was gleaming with oil and she was dressed in snakeskin sandals and a voluminous tunic of bold colors. She wore gold bracelets from wrist to elbow. Her arrival filled the hut.

"She looks like the Statue of Liberty!" Nadia commented, enchanted.

"God almighty, woman! What have they done to you?" the horrified missionary exclaimed.

"Nothing that can't be undone, Brother," she replied and, jingling her gold bracelets, she added, "With all this I can buy a whole fleet of planes."

"That is, if you escape from Kosongo."

"We're all going to escape, Brother." She smiled, very sure of herself.

"Not all of us. I'm staying to take the place of the brothers who were murdered," the missionary replied.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Last Night




THE FESTIVITIES BEGAN ABOUT FIVE in the afternoon, when it was a little less hot. A climate of great tension hovered over Ngoubé. Nzé's mother had spread the word among the Bantus that Nana-Asante, the legitimate queen, greatly mourned by her people, was alive. She added that the foreigners were planning to help the queen recover her throne, and that this would be the last chance they had to free themselves of Kosongo and Mbembelé. How long were they going to put up with his recruiting their sons to turn them into murderers? They were spied on every minute, with no freedom to move about or think, and they were poorer every day. Everything they produced, Kosongo took away. While he was piling up gold, diamonds, and ivory, the people could not get basic medical care. The woman spoke in secret with her daughters, the daughters told their women friends, and in less than an hour most of the adults shared the general restlessness. They didn't dare enlist the guards, even though they were members of their own families; they didn't know how they would react. Mbembelé had brainwashed them; he held them in his fist.

The anxiety was greater still among the Pygmy women because that afternoon the allotted time would run out for saving their children. Their husbands had always managed to come up with the elephant tusks in time, but now something was different. Nadia had given Jena the fabulous news that their magic amulet, Ipemba-Afua, had been recovered, and that the men were coming not with ivory but with a determination to confront Kosongo. The women would have to fight with the men. They had borne their slavery for years, believing that their families would survive if they obeyed. Their submission had yielded little fruit, however; their living conditions grew steadily worse. The more they put up with, the worse the abuse they suffered. As Jena explained to the other women, when there were no more elephants in the forest, Mbembelé and Kosongo would sell their children anyway. Better to die rebelling than live in slavery.

Kosongo's harem was also in an uproar because they had found out that the king's future wife was not afraid of anything and was almost as strong as Mbembelé; she had mocked the king and had knocked the old man down with one punch. The women who hadn't been lucky enough to witness that scene couldn't believe it. They were afraid of Kosongo, who had forced them to marry him, and they had a healthy respect for the crotchety old man who had the task of guarding them. Some believed that the arrogant Angie Ninderera would be tamed in less than three days and would become one of the most submissive of the king's wives—that's what had happened to them—but the four young women who had gone with her to the river, and who had seen her muscles and her attitude, were convinced that wouldn't happen.

The only ones unaware that something was brewing were precisely those who should have been best informed: Mbembelé and his "army". Authority had gone to their heads; they felt invincible. They had created their own reality, in which they felt comfortable, and since no one had ever defied them, they had grown careless.