The Masque Of Africa Part 9

2.

IT WAS from Professor Ga.s.siti that I first heard of the Gabonese miracle plant, the from Professor Ga.s.siti that I first heard of the Gabonese miracle plant, the eboga eboga. It was not especially rare, and it looked ordinary enough, with the spindly stem and the leaves of a kind of pepper plant. The root, suitably, was bitter. When the patient or aspirant, after due psychological preparation, ate this root it emptied his stomach and gave hallucinations. And (since we can hallucinate only about what we expect) local people could be sent on a dream journey to meet their ancestors in the other world. It also this other world (since it took you behind the scenes, so to speak) that showed the other side of reality and revealed clearly, as in daylight, whoever might have sought to damage you with charms or witchcraft. Once you had this knowledge you could protect yourself.

The professor taught at the university and was a pharmacist in his own right, with a famous modern pharmacy in Libreville. He was also known as an expert on local medicine and traditional ways of healing. He compared this medicine to the Indian ayurveda. It was based on metals, animals, and above all on plants. It had a spiritual side; it literally dealt with the spirits. The plants were aromatic herbs from the forest collected by traditional healers.

He learned about traditional healing from his paternal grandfather and his ancestors who were healers. His grandmother's name meant "the tree is medicine." The whole family was inspired by this lady, but his main influence was his grandfather's cousin. She was a very famous healer. She healed many patients all over Gabon.

"I went to France for my studies. There I met a Gabonese man who told all the students there that they should acquire skills and go back to Gabon. He told me to become a pharmacist. Actually my elder brother was to have done it, but he did engineering instead. So I did pharmacy and plant specialisation. It was the time when everybody was talking about the eboga eboga plant. It is a plant that is found in central Africa. In Gabon it is used to cure many things. It is now used as 'methadone' in the West. It is a subst.i.tute for heroin and morphine and is now used to help addicts to break their habit. It has fifteen substances in the roots. Since time immemorial plant. It is a plant that is found in central Africa. In Gabon it is used to cure many things. It is now used as 'methadone' in the West. It is a subst.i.tute for heroin and morphine and is now used to help addicts to break their habit. It has fifteen substances in the roots. Since time immemorial eboga eboga has been used in initiation rituals, and these initiation rituals are unique to Gabon. It can be called the Gabon patrimony. The first tribe to know of the has been used in initiation rituals, and these initiation rituals are unique to Gabon. It can be called the Gabon patrimony. The first tribe to know of the eboga eboga were the pigmies." The small people of the forest, gradually worn down by the bigger people. "They are the true masters of the forest. They know and distil every kind of poison in addition to the were the pigmies." The small people of the forest, gradually worn down by the bigger people. "They are the true masters of the forest. They know and distil every kind of poison in addition to the eboga eboga, and they pa.s.sed this knowledge on to the other tribes. Strange, to think of it. They were the true masters and now an American has a patent and is making millions from it."

Every day, the professor said, there was an initiation in Gabon, and people went to the "tradition houses" to eat eboga eboga and enter the other world. There, in the other world, people saw what was wrong with themselves. In their trance-like state they met their ancestors and told of their problems. The ancestors would tell them how to break the charms that have befallen them, and they would return "free." Many foreigners, especially from the former Yugoslav territory of Slovenia, came to "traditional houses" to be initiated. and enter the other world. There, in the other world, people saw what was wrong with themselves. In their trance-like state they met their ancestors and told of their problems. The ancestors would tell them how to break the charms that have befallen them, and they would return "free." Many foreigners, especially from the former Yugoslav territory of Slovenia, came to "traditional houses" to be initiated.

The professor said, "They, or we, are very superst.i.tious as a race."

And though the professor went to the ceremony with his friends, mainly in order to be with them, and though he had regard for the ceremony, he wanted to be free of it. He said, "I prefer being in the domain of chemistry." He was an elderly man with a round, humorous face.

SOONER THAN I expected, I was taken to an initiation, or that part of it which was not secret. It was in Libreville, in that district which was known as PK 12, Kilometre 12-the kilometres being measured, I imagine, from some point on the Libreville coast. I expected, I was taken to an initiation, or that part of it which was not secret. It was in Libreville, in that district which was known as PK 12, Kilometre 12-the kilometres being measured, I imagine, from some point on the Libreville coast.

I went with Nicole, a captain in the army. She had been appointed my bodyguard. In an extraordinary act of generosity the Defence Minister, who was also the president's son, had made me his guest in Gabon; and during all my time in the country I had this important protection. Nicole was well educated, had travelled, and was well connected.

After the Ivory Coast, Libreville, with its ocean drive and new official buildings, presented a smiling face; it was easy to believe that there had been an oil boom. But the road to PK 12, an outer area, undid that early impression. The lights were dim; in one place the narrow road was flooded, because of a burst water main; and traffic was difficult, especially at crossroads. Someone who was to meet us somewhere couldn't come, and though Nicole had reconnoitred the route in daylight, in the darkness houses and shops with their feeble, almost ghostly, fluorescent tubes looked alike, and we overshot the initiation house by a good kilometre. Habib, the driver (also in the army, and with a gun), began very slowly to take the big car back. We came upon two "cruisers" full of white people. They went through a big gate in a high compound wall. They were clearly like us, people going to the initiation; and we followed them.

The compound wall concealed an initiation "village." It was the creation of a big, handsome Frenchman who had a Gabonese wife. The drumming was ceaseless; it was mingled with some kind of rough chanting and very deep shrieks, quite impressive. The Frenchman appeared to be asking Nicole too many questions. I thought he was checking on us; but later, at the end of the evening, when she was paying him money, I thought he had been letting Nicole know at the outset that there was to be a hefty payment for our party. Nicole knew the ways of Gabon in these near-spiritual matters and had come supplied with cash, which was more than I had done.

The "village" and the "initiation dance" were both productions for tourists or townspeople, to give them a taste of the eboga eboga experience. So it wasn't the real thing. This was disappointing; but a moment's thought showed that it was wrong to be disappointed. What else could be expected in the capital? To see the real thing, a.s.suming it existed, and was accessible to strangers, you would have to go far in the interior; and there you would be an intruder, which would have been disagreeable. And the drumming here-ceaseless-was real; the painted dancers were real: glimpses of them all the time in the thatched huts in the lower part of the yard: red, white and black the arresting colours of paint on bodies already beaded with perspiration. experience. So it wasn't the real thing. This was disappointing; but a moment's thought showed that it was wrong to be disappointed. What else could be expected in the capital? To see the real thing, a.s.suming it existed, and was accessible to strangers, you would have to go far in the interior; and there you would be an intruder, which would have been disagreeable. And the drumming here-ceaseless-was real; the painted dancers were real: glimpses of them all the time in the thatched huts in the lower part of the yard: red, white and black the arresting colours of paint on bodies already beaded with perspiration.

Later, when he showed us into the initiation hut, before the dance, the Frenchman referred to his drummers and dancers as artistes; artistes; and that probably said it all. For all their pa.s.sion and energy, they were performers. They did it every Sat.u.r.day. It was a livelihood for everyone concerned. All the troupe, the Frenchman said, were members of his wife's family. and that probably said it all. For all their pa.s.sion and energy, they were performers. They did it every Sat.u.r.day. It was a livelihood for everyone concerned. All the troupe, the Frenchman said, were members of his wife's family.

A little way in from the entrance a steep hillside led down to the sounds of the drums and the chanting. Steps had been cut into the hillside, and at the bottom there was to a clearing of flattened earth, lit by kerosene lanterns and rolled-up palm leaves. This was where the dancing would take place. Around this area was a half-ring of tables and stools, for visitors. It was hot, with the lanterns and the burning palm leaves, and there was much moisture in the air; but there were no mosquitoes.

The drumming went on and on, together with the chanting and the shrieks that made for a kind of wild rhythm.

A woman, apparently a servant of the house, asked whether we would like to drink something. I asked for a cola drink. It came in an opened bottle. Habib, the driver, swift as a hawk, objected to that. The woman said, "I have done nothing."

When the Frenchman invited us to go to the initiation hut to see the artistes invoke their ancestors and the spirits, Nicole refused to go. She was a Christian and wanted no part of this spirit talk. The drumming and chanting might have been done only for tourists, but it agitated her. Working her lips, but not speaking loudly, she was saying "Hail Mary" again and again, speaking her Christian charm against whatever charms were in play here, and unwittingly paying tribute to the power of African spirits.

The initiation hut was a low structure of mud and dry palm leaves. Palm leaves burned on the earthen floor, and the initiates, splendid in costume and paint, sat in a semicircle around the fire. They were of various ages, from six to thirty. It was hot enough outside; the palm-leaf fire made the heat overpowering. The great heat, the drumming, the shouts and shrieks, the low roof, the feeling of an encroaching darkness, with an inability to see very clearly, made the scene hypnotic.

The initiates shouted (I believe), "Bukowa! Bukowa!" "Bukowa! Bukowa!" The Frenchman tried to instruct us in a response. But we needed a lot more time to learn, and we did the next best thing: we gave money. As so often on these occasions, it was enough. The Frenchman tried to instruct us in a response. But we needed a lot more time to learn, and we did the next best thing: we gave money. As so often on these occasions, it was enough.

The dancing, done sometimes with burning palm-leaf brands, was breathtaking. Energy seemed to come to the dancers from some external source, and we could imagine that it came from the eboga eboga root. Habib, the driver, who took his bodyguard duty seriously, told me afterwards that there were times, during the dancing, and the waving about of brands, when he had become worried for me. root. Habib, the driver, who took his bodyguard duty seriously, told me afterwards that there were times, during the dancing, and the waving about of brands, when he had become worried for me.

After the dancing there was to be dinner for those who wanted it. On a lower level (the hill was full of levels) we could see where tables had been laid with white tablecloths. There was, of course, a charge. And after the dinner there was to be, for a further fee, something connected with initiation. That sounded quite serious and I didn't think I should stay for it. One can be an observer only up to a point. Beyond that point one was an intruder (and there was the further worry about Nicole's Christian agitation).

We went back up the steep steps to the top of the hill. There the Frenchman met us and showed an eboga eboga plant. Nicole paid him; it seemed to me in the darkness that she was paying him a fair sum. plant. Nicole paid him; it seemed to me in the darkness that she was paying him a fair sum.

The general who was Nicole's superior telephoned her as we were going back to the hotel. The traffic was easier than it had been earlier in the evening; but the weak fluorescent light still teased the sight. General Ibaba wanted to know about the evening. Nicole gave him a summary, but the general wanted to know about it in minute detail. We were in good hands.

Near the end of my time in Gabon, when we were far inland, in a village in the Lope national park, I witnessed another piece of African dancing. This was outside a chief's hall, which was a shed with traditional bark walls and an old corrugated-iron roof. Only the bark wall spoke of old forest ways. The shed was cleaned up in our presence, and a short stiff broom was applied to the uneven ground outside. The dancing came after a dinner carefully prepared and laid out on a table in the open air.

The drums were there but not as thrilling; the body paint was there on the dancers, but more perfunctory, a dab of white and a dab of red standing for something more complete; the originals of all the movements were there, but in a lesser, undeveloped way. There were a number of children among the dancers, but not many young people; there was little in this piece of bush in Lope to keep young people; the ambitious or the bored wanted to go to Libreville. Yet even with its thin chorus line (so to speak) this village performance was as genuine as could be. But I preferred the Frenchman's metropolitan creation in Libreville, and not only because its human material was richer, its dancers more accomplished. It used the same local materials, but it added style and finish, and I did not think it lacking in spirituality or feeling.

3.

THE PIGMIES, the small people, were the first inhabitants of the forest, and they became its masters. They knew its multifarious plants, their healing or poisonous qualities. They were the first to learn of the hallucinogenic eboga eboga. ("Hallucinogenic for you," one professional Gabonese lady said unexpectedly. "But for Africans it's their reality." Opening up a whole vista of the relativity of perceptions, too much of a quicksand for the short-term traveller to go into.) Africa is a land of migrations, and it was the pigmies who showed the later Bantu migrants the "path" of the forest, the philosophy of the forest.

Claudine felt pa.s.sionately for the pigmies. She now lived in the forest close to them.

She said, "I thought it was awful that they were considered subhuman and low-value and had been herded into reserves. That was why I wanted to know more about them. We have no regard for them, but we go to them in secret for healing. For initiation, barrenness, for sickness the hospital cannot cure. Sometimes people step on a charm hidden in the ground and they become ill. The hospital cannot find out what's wrong with them, even with all their modern amenities. So the sick person will go to the pigmy. The pigmy will tell them who put the charm and where and how. A person can become paralysed by stepping on a charm. He loses feeling in his lower limbs. I have made many photos of people who were injured by these mystical weapons, and I have seen how they were healed."

Her feeling for the pigmies and the "path" made Claudine use extraordinary and sometimes very moving language.

She said, "The closer we come to the pigmies the more we understand that the world has a soul and has a life. It has energy. Pigmies are like our memories of the past. They hold the knowledge of that world."

The events of the second half of the nineteenth century ripped the continent open. But the pigmies remained close to the forest. They preserved their knowledge of the forest; in that knowledge lay their civilisation. Other tribes lost much of that knowledge.

"In spite of the relentless pressure of the outer world the pigmies retain their civilisation. They still have to kill an elephant to become 'a man.' A group of young initiates wear masks made of palm branches and they go hunting. It is a rite of pa.s.sage."

And then there were the charms-never far away in any consideration of the s.h.i.+fting reality that surrounds men.

Claudine said, "In the mystical world"-"mystical" was the word used for anything beyond rationality-"you can make a charm from someone's leftover food to hurt that person. And that person will have to go fast to the pigmy for help. The pigmy will look into water or a mirror and he will see whether the victim will live or die. Or whether indeed the victim has already 'crossed the river,' as they say: has already died. There are two kinds of healer here. The small healer will deal only with malaria and influenza. Pigmies are very good with malaria. For bigger problems, like charms, you have to go to a master healer. He has been a disciple of a great man for many years. He has learned all the 'tactics' of the spiritual world. When it comes to fighting the spirits you have to know the rules, or you can die, because the spirits are very strong."

How was the pigmy healer or master rewarded?

Claudine said, "They know about money now. But those who really know their work, the genuine healers, the real masters, will not want money because they feel it corrupts their gifts. They look upon their gift as something that has come to them from the ancestor. So you give the healer or the master whatever you want-cloth, alcohol, food or tobacco. He will not ask for it. You do not give money. He does not want it. I knew a person who went really mad. They took him to a pigmy master who treated him for three months, and he was healed. The man wanted to reward the master with anything and everything-car, house, a plot of land. He said he would do anything for the master. But the master wanted nothing. All he said to the man was, 'Take my young daughter home with you. Adopt her and educate her in modern ways.' The man did as the master asked. He brought the girl to Libreville and educated her and treated her like a close confidante. She is now a civil servant and is still very close to her people. You see, the master knew that the world had changed, and the pigmies would need their own people to be a bridge to the new world."

Pigmy villages were small, from twenty to fifty people in all. At one time the pigmies lived in branch or leaf igloos, made afresh every evening. But now they follow Bantu ways and live in more permanent Bantu-style mud huts.

Claudine said, "I don't think their culture has changed as a result. The outer form has changed, but the content is still the same."

There were two important tribes in the south of Gabon. They had introduced the pigmy to the all-important initiation ceremony, and the pigmy in his turn had pa.s.sed on his knowledge of plants, including the eboga eboga, to them. Initiation (for men alone) was a necessary stage in divination, which was done here with water or with a mirror; and in this field the pigmy was the master. So you could say that the two cultures, Bantu and pigmy, had come together.

More important than divination was the gift of communication with your ancestors. This, too, could come only after initiation, and it was of great importance. It was only from your ancestor that you could find out about your position in society, your duties and your responsibility. For this you needed the skull and bones of your ancestor, and they had to be truly of your ancestor; you couldn't use the skull and bones of a ritual sacrifice. The skull and bones for this ritual had to come from an elder who, as he was dying, gave you permission to keep his bones as a relic.

In every family there was only one person, and he was an elder, who had the privilege of talking with the ancestors. It was this elder and his wife who kept the skull and bones; the wife's duty was to keep the skull and bones clean.

Claudine said, "This buitee buitee or ritual is only for men. Some tribes have included women now, but people are very unhappy about it." She began to talk in a practical way about or ritual is only for men. Some tribes have included women now, but people are very unhappy about it." She began to talk in a practical way about eboga eboga-eating. "It is very bitter. The mouth becomes numb. The body becomes numb, and every sensation is enhanced. In the real buitee buitee the ancestor comes at three in the morning." It occurred to me that at PK 12 I had heard something like this, but had thought of it only as a way of getting us to stay longer. Claudine said, "The ancestor comes at three in the morning and speaks in an ancient tongue no one can understand. Only the third level of initiates can understand him. At that level the initiate can talk to the relics, and can also initiate other people. Women can be healed by the ancestor comes at three in the morning." It occurred to me that at PK 12 I had heard something like this, but had thought of it only as a way of getting us to stay longer. Claudine said, "The ancestor comes at three in the morning and speaks in an ancient tongue no one can understand. Only the third level of initiates can understand him. At that level the initiate can talk to the relics, and can also initiate other people. Women can be healed by buitee buitee, but they cannot be initiated. Another thing: to be a healer you have to have an ancestor somewhere in your past who was a healer."

Even with Claudine's knowledge of pigmy ways, and her love for them, it was hard to arrive at a human understanding of the pigmies, to see them as individuals. Perhaps they weren't.

I asked her, "Are pigmies happy people?"

"They are happy and they are gentle, but they are a very wary race. They become tactile after a long time. They don't trust easily."

"Do they still hunt?"

"They hunt at night now, and they have guns. Before they used to make traps."

"Do you really like living in the forest?"

"Yes. Because my ancestors were savages." She laughed, at the double irony of her words, which acknowledged what was said about Africans by people outside, and, within that, what was said about pigmies by the Bantu. She said, "Life is simple in the forest. You have no urban stress. You bathe in the river. You eat from communal kitchens, and you go to sleep at seven. The forest is peaceful and tranquil and I can think about 'myself.' I am not afraid of the forest. I never think of the dangers there, because you radiate energy. Animals can smell negative waves of fear and then they attack. It is here, in the forest, that I understood that the forest talks to us. It asks us questions, and it feeds us. It is the beginning and the end, and that is why pigmies, who understand this, are the masters."

I wanted to know about death: how do pigmies deal with it?

"Pigmies believe in nature. They believe they come from the earth, and that is why they do not want to pollute it with the dead. They do not bury the dead. When a master dies they wrap him in a mat and put him under a big tree. They leave him there to rot, and no one will go to that place. They will not hunt or forage there. When decomposition is complete they put the bones in a grave, and they will quarantine that area. They cannot understand Christianity."

"What do they find especially hard about it?"

"They fail to see why Jesus should have all the power. For them power has to be distributed among many chiefs."

"How long do they live?"

"The average span is fifty years. Life is short because civilisation has introduced many diseases that were not known to them. Alcoholism, HIV."

"How dark is the forest?"

"During the day light filters through the canopy and it is full of shadows. At night it is pitch dark. I think of it as a 'locked' darkness. It is important, too, to remember that the canopy absorbs pollution. This is why we must preserve the forest."

4.

FROM THE air the depredation of the loggers hardly shows. The forest seems whole and tight and eternal. At ground level it's another story. There are the logging roads; the rains wash the loosened earth into the rivers, and the fish suffer. For anyone who feels a mystical bond with the old forest there is pain. Mme Ondo, a high civil servant, and a very elegant lady, felt that pain acutely. She was of mixed ancestry, but her heart was all African. air the depredation of the loggers hardly shows. The forest seems whole and tight and eternal. At ground level it's another story. There are the logging roads; the rains wash the loosened earth into the rivers, and the fish suffer. For anyone who feels a mystical bond with the old forest there is pain. Mme Ondo, a high civil servant, and a very elegant lady, felt that pain acutely. She was of mixed ancestry, but her heart was all African.

She said, "We were told that we would plant a tree for every tree we cut, but it is not so. It sickens my heart that we don't follow that principle. When I see a truck full of logs, I don't see trees or wood. I see murdered people. They are not logs for me, but dead people. The trees are creatures just like us. Trees live longer than human beings, and they give us everything, even oxygen. We need to learn a lot from trees."

Mme Ondo was elegant, but that elegance was not a simple matter of inheritance. It came from deep within her. Her mother was a peasant, and so was her mother's mother.

"I used to help on the small farms they worked on, and I used to go with my mother to the forest. I was brought up by an aunt and uncle. Once, when I was eight, they took me to the forest and left me alone in an encampment while they went fis.h.i.+ng in the big river. I was alone in the night, and I was afraid because I kept thinking of the stories of the anaconda snake that comes at night looking for children. In the morning I was very glad to eat the fish they had caught, but at night it was a different story."

Later she became attuned to the beauty of the forest.

"The positive side is that it is very cool. There is a great calm. The birds sing, and there is great beauty in the trees. And if you see the small path twisting and turning like a snake in the forest you think of the image of the absolute. The search for the truth comes from the forest. I adore the forest, and even if I spend years abroad I have to come back and rush to the forest. I need the thick forest to feel alive."

"Will the philosophy of the people change with the thinning of the forest?"

"It will change us completely, because we are all tied to the forest. We need the logs to develop the economy of Gabon, but we need a policy of reforestation to be followed very strictly. You have to remember even then that a primeval forest is very different from a planted forest. Even if you leave the young saplings to grow around the trees you have felled, it still affects the flora and fauna and the animals. The animals disappear."

The loggers crack the forest open, build the tracks, and leave it ready for the poachers, who turn up now with AK-47s and Kalashnikovs which, on animals in the opened-up forest, have the equivalent of the killing power of fly-spray on flies and insects in a small room.

Mme Ondo had an African heart; but within that, and even with her mixed ancestry, she considered herself culturally of the Fang tribe. The Fangs (p.r.o.nounced in the French way, without the final "g") are one of the big tribes of Gabon. The French-American traveller Du Chaillu (1831-1903) went among them in the 1850s and (though suspect in other ways) left detailed drawings of the Fangs, their hairstyles, their filed teeth, their musical instruments and their iron tools. He said the Fangs were cannibals. This (rather than their extraordinary skills as metal-workers) gave them a special notoriety in the nineteenth century, always on the look-out for the more sensational side of Africa.

Mme Ondo said, "Fangs were never cannibals. But we don't know what is done in the mystical ceremonies. They may eat or not eat people. We don't know. It was the colonial way to denigrate the Fangs because they saw the Fangs as fierce and warlike. The Fangs were coming from the north-east of Africa. They were told that their land was by the sea. The legends said that they were to go to a place where the sun set in the sea. In order to do that, they had to pa.s.s through many tribes and territories, and they had to be warriors and fierce to reach here, where the sun sank in the sea."

It was on this great migration that the Fangs met the pigmies.

"The Fangs despised the pigmy, but they were taught about the forest by the very pigmy they despised. The pigmy is master of the forest and knows all the remedies needed for the many diseases that are found in it. Also, the pigmy is master of traditional healing." It was interesting how this emphasis on disease and healing came up again and again: suggesting that the forest, spiritual healer though it might be, good for the soul, was always felt in folk imagination to be at the same time a place of illness, a place in constant need of medical or magical attention.

Mme Ondo said, "Even though the Fangs hated the pigmies for their size and smallness, they needed him to run and fetch in the forest. To survive in the forest they needed the pigmy. The forest is a very big struggle. The Fangs' struggle with the forest, their penetration of it, is sung in their oral history. They have a legend called Odzaboga Odzaboga. It tells of the Fangs and the forest. The legend says that when they came here they saw a big tree, the fromager fromager or cheese tree." or cheese tree."

I had heard the name for the first time in the Ivory Coast, and had understood that the truly beautiful tree, grey-trunked, lofty, with a few well-balanced branches, noticeable even in the high forest, was used by the French to make boxes for certain kinds of French cheese. I imagine the wood of the fromager fromager was neutral in aroma and taste. was neutral in aroma and taste.

In the Fang legend the migrating Fangs spent years digging into the trunk of the fromager fromager that barred their way to the great forest. They tunnelled and tunnelled. that barred their way to the great forest. They tunnelled and tunnelled.

Mme Ondo said, "The tree they dug into is called adzap adzap, and it is in the oral history. There it is the symbol of the immortal country and is sacred. The entire universe sees this tree. It is on top of a mountain and has wide lateral branches. Well, the Fangs succeeded in digging through the trunk, but then the tree collapsed and took them into a ravine, where a giant snake appeared and took them to the other side of the forest. That is where the legend ends."

Mme Ondo had been initiated into Fang rites. Silence was the first law of initiation, she said; and she wished to say nothing of her initiation. She was willing to talk more about the forest, the medicine and plants that fight illness, and make it possible to deal with the jinn and spirits of the forest. These spirits and jinn can heal the human body. The Fangs have a religion that they practise in grottoes deep in the forest; women have to stay away from these places.

"You dig a hole and put the bones of the elder or master-healer in it. Then you get a special wooden statue. These statues were made long ago by traditional priests. Nowadays they are sought after as antiques and are very expensive. You put the wooden statue on the bones in the hole. The priest will then be able to speak to the buried person, who is an ancestor or elder. There will be a religious service, and the Fangs who gather there will be in a trance-like state. They eat a plant very similar to the eboga eboga. This plant is called alane alane and is very bitter. The priest asks first for forgiveness for his sins and the sins of the initiates." and is very bitter. The priest asks first for forgiveness for his sins and the sins of the initiates."

In this account by Mme Ondo, the asking for forgiveness by the priest seemed to me to have been borrowed from Christianity. But I did not raise the point with her; I did not wish to divert her.

Mme Ondo said, "Only the priest can talk to the statue of the elder, because we know only the elder can talk to G.o.d. We cannot talk to G.o.d; we are impure. The elder will intercede for us and give us what we seek. Then we do the rituals. We sacrifice a sheep without horns."

If, as I felt, some tinge of Christianity had crept into Fang ritual, it was also true, as Mme Ondo said, that Christianity had done away with many Fang rites and rituals. In Fang legend, the tribe had to look for a land where the sun sank into the sea. They found that land in Gabon. What the legend had no means of saying was that, as soon as the French had staked out their colony in the 1840s, Christian missionaries, American and French, were going to be active, undermining (and in the north suppressing) old Fang life in unforeseen ways.

Mme Ondo said, "Here when an old person dies we say a library has burnt down."

I had heard that said in the Ivory Coast in 1983. The words had been reverentially attributed to a wise old Ivorian, Ahmadou Hampate Ba, then said to be very ill in hospital and close to death; the words had clearly pa.s.sed into folk memory.

But Mme Ondo also thought that certain traditions, certain ways of belief, especially those that had been enshrined in oral tradition, would survive. "Here certain traditions have become inst.i.tutionalised over generations and cannot be lost. I agree that if a master of a forge dies, and does not pa.s.s the iron-smelting knowledge to his apprentice, the knowledge of the forge will die. But traditional rites like initiation and those connected with the oral tradition have preserved their knowledge."

I asked, "How do the Fang re-charge?"

"The Fang masters do astral journeys. It is a common phenomenon, as it is for the yogis of India. They can double and be in two places at the same time. When they return we feed them raw eggs and offer animal sacrifices for them. Witches and wizards can also do this astral journey, and they can sometimes fail to come back. They are found dead in the morning. Or they turn into owls, bats and flames that you see in the forest in the night. Daylight stops them re-entering their bodies. Only a very strong wizard can do it, but he will become very ill. Then the traditional priest will have to perform many rituals and sacrifices to cure him."

DOUBLES, ASTRAL journeys, the fragility and yet the enduringness of ritual, the idea of energy, the wonder of the forest: the themes recurred. And yet there were things that surprised me. journeys, the fragility and yet the enduringness of ritual, the idea of energy, the wonder of the forest: the themes recurred. And yet there were things that surprised me.

Ernest, a museum curator, a Christian, said, "Our life is bound with the forest. Every initiation is related to the forest. The relations.h.i.+p between the people and the forest is seen in the ritual. You went to see it at PK 12. The harp, or what we call the gombi gombi, is crucial. In the strings of the harp are the intestines of our first ancestor, the first men who lived in the forest. It is the main instrument in the initiation ceremony, and it was the first religion of the forest."

I thought back to the occasion: the night, the heat, the blazing rolled-up palm-leaf brands, the drumming, the painted figures, the shouts. I remembered now, at the very edge of the dancing area, a man at a harp, leaning with infinite tenderness over his instrument, as though anxious in the din to catch every vibration from the strings. He was, I thought, like G. F. Watts's blindfolded figure of Hope insecurely atop the world. In the roar of the dancing yard I saw him as a minor figure, contributing little. I noticed him and then I didn't look at him. It was shocking to me now to understand, what nearly everyone there would have understood, what the strings of the harp stood for.