Forest of the Pygmies (21 page)

When at last the combatants attacked, their blades glinted an instant in the light of the torches before flashing downward. Two simultaneous screams rent the night. Both fell; one rolled about on the ground and the other landed on all fours, still clutching his weapon. The moon seemed to stop in the sky as Ngoubé held its breath. Long minutes passed. The youth on the ground shuddered a few times then lay motionless. The other contestant dropped his knife and huddled with his forehead touching the ground and his arms around his head, convulsed with tears.

Mbembelé stood, and with conscious deliberation walked to the ring. With the tip of his boot he turned over the body of the youth on the ground, then unsheathed the pistol he wore at his waist and aimed at the head of the other combatant. In that instant Angie Ninderera threw herself into the center of the plaza and grabbed the commandant so swiftly and so forcefully that she caught him off guard. The bullet buried itself in the ground a few inches from the head of the “victor.” An exhalation of horror ran through the crowd: It was absolutely forbidden to touch the commandant. No one, ever, had dared oppose him that way. Mbembelé was so stunned by what Angie had done that it was several seconds before he could recover, which gave her time to position herself in front of the pistol, blocking a second shot.

“Tell King Kosongo that I agree to be his wife, and that I want the lives of these men as a wedding present,” she said in a firm voice.

Mbembelé and Angie stared into each other's eyes, taking one another's measure like a pair of boxers before a match. The commandant was half a head taller and much stronger than she. In addition, he had a pistol, but Angie was one of those persons who have indestructible self-confidence. She thought of herself as beautiful, clever, and irresistible; and she had a bold way about her that helped her get anything her
heart desired. She placed her hands on the naked chest of the despised commandant—touching him for the second time—and gave him a gentle shove, obliging him to step back. Then she dazzled him with a smile that would undo the most ferocious of men.

“Come on, Commandant. Now I will accept a drink of your whisky,” she said cheerfully, as if she had witnessed a circus act and not a duel to the death.

In the meantime, Brother Fernando, followed by Kate and Joel, had gone to the ring and picked up the two young men. One was covered in blood and unsteady on his feet; the other was unconscious. They put both men's arms around their shoulders and literally dragged them to the hut where they were sequestered, while the entire population of Ngoubé, the Bantu guards, and the Brotherhood of the Leopard observed the scene with unparalleled astonishment.

Q
UEEN
N
ANA-
A
SANTE ACCOMPANIED
N
ADIA
and Alexander along the narrow trail through the jungle that joined the village of the ancestors with the altar where Beyé-Dokou was waiting. The sun wasn't yet up, and the moon had disappeared. It was the blackest hour of the night, but Alexander had his flashlight and Nana-Asante knew the path by heart; she had traveled it many times to pick up the offerings of food left by the Pygmies.

Alexander and Nadia were transformed by their experience in the world of the spirits. For a few hours they had ceased to be individuals and had melded into the absolute of existence. They felt strong, secure, clearheaded: They saw reality from a richer and more luminous perspective. They had left fear behind, including fear of death; now they understood that, happen what may, they would not be swallowed up by darkness. They would never be separated; they were part of a single spirit.

It was difficult for them to imagine that on the metaphysical plane, evil people like Mauro Carías in the Amazon, the Specialist in the Forbidden Kingdom, and Kosongo in Ngoubé had souls identical to theirs. How was it possible that there was no difference between villains and heroes, saints and criminals, between those who do good and those who pass through the world sowing destruction and pain? They didn't know the answer to this mystery, but they conjectured that the experiences of each being contribute to the immense spiritual reserve of the universe. Some do that through the suffering their evil has caused them; others through the light acquired from compassion.

When they returned to the reality of the present, the two young friends thought of the tests that lay ahead. They had one immediate mission to accomplish: to help liberate the slaves and overthrow Kosongo. To do that they had to shatter the indifference of the Bantus; because they hadn't opposed tyranny, they were accomplices to it. There are certain circumstances under which one cannot remain neutral. Alex and Nadia knew, however, that the outcome did not depend on them. The true protagonists and heroes of the story were the Pygmies. That took a tremendous load off their shoulders.

Beyé-Dokou was sleeping and did not hear them arrive. Nadia gently wakened him. When he saw Nana-Asante in the light of the flash, he thought she was a ghost. His eyes bulged and he turned the color of ash, but the queen burst out laughing and rubbed his head to prove that she was as alive as he. Then she told him how all those years she had hidden in the cemetery, not daring to come out because she was afraid of Kosongo. She added that she was tired of waiting for things to change by themselves; the moment had come to go back to Ngoubé, confront the usurper, and free the people from oppression.

“Nadia and I will go ahead to Ngoubé to scout things out,” Alexander announced. “We'll arrange to get help. When people know that Nana-Asante is alive, I believe they will find the courage to rebel.”

“We hunters come in afternoon,” said Beyé-Dokou. “That is hour Kosongo expecting us.”

They agreed that Nana-Asante should not come into the village until they were sure that people would back her; otherwise Kosongo would kill her with impunity. She was the one trump card they had to play in this dangerous game; they would leave her for the last. If they could strip
Kosongo of his supposedly divine attributes, maybe the Bantus would lose their fear and rise up against him. There were still Mbembelé and his soldiers to contend with, but Alexander and Nadia proposed a plan that was approved by Nana-Asante and Beyé-Dokou. Alexander handed his watch to the queen because the Pygmy didn't know how to use it, and they agreed about the time and the plan of action.

The rest of the hunters joined them. They had spent a good part of the night in ceremonial dancing, asking for help from
Ezenji
and other divinities of the animal and plant worlds. When they saw the queen, their reaction was more extreme than Beyé-Dokou's had been. As one, terrorized, they started running from the “ghost.” Beyé-Dokou chased after them, shouting that she was alive, not a wandering soul. Finally, one by one, cautiously, they returned, and dared touch her with the tip of a trembling finger. When they found that she wasn't dead, they welcomed her with respect and hope.

It was Nadia's idea that they should inject King Kosongo with Michael Mushaha's tranquilizer. The day before she had watched one of the hunters drop a monkey using a dart and a blowgun similar to the ones used by the Indians in the Amazon. She didn't see why they couldn't use a dart to deliver the drug. She had no idea what effect it would have on a human. If it could fell a rhinoceros in a few minutes' time, it might kill a human. She assumed, however, that because of Kosongo's enormous size he would survive. His heavy cape would be a problem, however; it acted as almost invincible armor. With the right weapon, one could penetrate the hide of an elephant, but with only a blowgun they would have to hit the target of the king's bare skin.

After Nadia laid out her plan, the Pygmies picked the hunter with the strongest lungs and best aim. The man puffed out his chest and smiled at the distinction they were bestowing on him, but his proud moment did not last long; the rest of the Pygmies burst out laughing and making jokes, the way they always did when someone was prideful. Once the chosen hunter had come back down to earth, they gave him the vial with the tranquilizer. Humbled, he put it in a little pouch at his waist without saying a word.

“The king will sleep like a dead man for several hours. That will give us time to stir the Bantus into action . . . and then we'll produce Queen Nana-Asante,” Nadia instructed.

“And what will we do about the commandant and his soldiers?” the hunters asked.

“I will challenge Mbembelé to a contest,” said Alexander.

He didn't know why he had said that, or how he would ever carry out such a daring proposition; it was simply the first thing that came to mind, and he blurted it out without thinking. The minute he said it, however, the idea took shape, and he realized that there was no other solution. Just as they had to strip Kosongo of his divinity so people would no longer be afraid of him, so, too, Mbembelé had to be defeated on his own terrain: that of brute force.

“You can't win, Jaguar. You're not like him; you're a peaceful person. Besides, he has firearms, and you've never fired a shot,” Nadia argued.

“It won't be a fight with firearms—either hand to hand or with spears.”

“You're insane!”

Alexander explained to the hunters that he had a very powerful amulet. He showed them the fossil he wore around his neck and told them that it came from a mythological animal, a dragon that had lived in the high mountains of the Himalayas before human beings walked the earth. That amulet, he said, protected him from cutting objects, and to prove it he told them to stand ten steps from him and attack him with their spears.

The Pygmies put their arms around each other and formed a circle, like a football huddle, chattering like magpies and laughing. From time to time, they sent looks of pity toward the young foreigner who was asking them to do something so crazy. Alexander lost his patience, broke into the middle of the circle, and insisted that they put his claim to the test.

The men took places among the trees, little convinced, and still doubled over with laughter. Alexander measured off ten paces, not a simple task in the middle of so much vegetation, stood in front of them with his hands on his hips, and shouted that he was ready. One by one, the Pygmies threw their spears. Alex did not move a muscle as spearheads whizzed by, hairbreadth from his skin. The hunters, confused,
picked up their spears and tried again, this time without laughing and with more concentrated energy, but again they missed their mark.

“Now come after me with machetes,” Alexander commanded.

Two of them, the only ones who had machetes, ran toward him shouting at the top of their lungs, but Alex shifted his body only slightly and the blades of the weapons dug into the ground.

“You are a very powerful witch man,” they concluded, dumbfounded.

“No, but my amulet is almost as valuable as Ipemba-Afua,” Alexander replied.

“You mean that anyone with that amulet can do what you do?” one of the hunters asked.

“Exactly.”

Once again the Pygmies formed their circle and whispered excitedly for a long time, until they reached an accord.

“In that case, one of us will fight Mbembelé,” they announced.

“Why?” Alexander asked. “I can do it.”

“Because you aren't as strong as we are. You are tall, but you don't know how to hunt, and you get tired when you run. Any one of our women is better than you,” one of them said.

“Hey! Thanks a lot!”

“It's true.” Nadia nodded, hiding a smile.

“The
tuma
will fight Mbembelé,” the Pygmies decided.

Everyone was looking at their best hunter, Beyé-Dokou, who meekly refused the honor, as good manners required, although it was easy to see how proud he felt. After he was urged several times to accept, he agreed to hang the dragon amulet around his neck and to stand and face his companion's spears. The earlier scene was repeated, and finally the Pygmies were convinced that the fossil was an impenetrable shield. Alexander visualized the tiny, child-sized Beyé-Dokou facing the imposing Mbembelé.

“Do you know the story of David and Goliath?” he asked.

“No,” the Pygmies replied.

“Long, long ago, far away from this forest, two tribes were at war. One of them had a champion called Goliath, who was a giant as tall as a tree and as strong as an elephant. His sword weighed as much as ten machetes. Everyone was terrified of him. David, a boy in the other tribe, was brave enough to challenge him. His weapons were a slingshot and a stone. The two tribes gathered to observe the combat. David shot a stone that stuck Goliath in the middle of his forehead, and he fell to the ground. Then David took his sword away and killed him.”

The listeners doubled over laughing. To them the story was incomparably comic, but they didn't see the parallel until Alexander explained that Goliath was Mbembelé and their David was Beyé-Dokou. Too bad they didn't have a sling, the Pygmies said. They had no idea what a sling was, but they imagined it to be a formidable weapon. Finally it was time for the new friends to be on their way toward Ngoubé. They said good-bye, after clapping Alex and Nadia on the arms again and again, and disappeared into the forest.

Alexander and Nadia entered the village just as it was beginning to dawn. Only a few dogs noticed them; the villagers were sleeping and no one was guarding the former mission. They peered into the hut with caution, not wanting to startle their friends, and were greeted by Kate, who had slept very little and very poorly. When she saw her grandson, the writer felt a mixture of profound relief and a desire to give him a sound whipping. All she could do, however, was grab him by the ear and shake him, berating him all the while.

“Where were you two, you devilish brats?” she yelled.

Alexander laughed. “I love you, too, Grandmother,” he said, and gave her a big hug.

“I mean it this time, Alexander. I'm never going anywhere with you again! And as for you, missy, you have a lot of explaining to do!” she added, turning to Nadia.