### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ####### [ The Midnight Dance At Noon ] [ By Simon Moleke-Njie ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ THE MIDNIGHT DANCE AT NOON a short story, with a parapsychological introduction by Simon Mol When your eyes are closed - you are the Absolute... There's no distance Between the north and south poles... There's no me or you... only a stupendous Totality That manifests as an Incomprehensible darkness... When your eyes are closed You dissolve into an equation, in which one plus one is infinite. INTRODUCTION Saturday January 13th 2001 It is 3:30 AM. I am travelling at a tremendous speed in the inner planes. I come face to face with the image of my mum. This unexpected encounter jolts me in a pitiless impact that leaves no time to figure things out. She is shouting an instruction at me. She is telling me not to focus my attention on other people - relatives and friends. I tell her I have a right to do as I please and deal with whomever I feel like. She says I shouldn't defy her or else I will have to contest with her wrath. I tell her there is no point in getting angry over the issue because it makes no sense. At this, she gets really mad at me! Her face takes an unnatural prolongation with her neck stretching like that of a giraffe - "I will kill you if you fail to obey me!" she yells at me at the top of her voice. My totality is at this point concentrated on my forehead as I look her in the eyes and tell her "this is impossible!" I say this with my 'will' rather than with my voice as I haven't any at this point. It is a carefully calculated and masterly executed act of 'Liemba', a deadly manoeuvre which has penetrated my fortress and is frightfully close... in inner facts, too close to inflict injury. I remind myself that in this particular world, blood relation doesn't count. I advice myself to stay an inch no longer. Urging with a psychic monster makes sense only in a computer play station. I admit defeat and flee, fast too. It takes less than the speed of thought by the velocity of inner time to return to this side of reality in which you are reading this. Yes! I fled from 'that world'... a world governed by the principle of self-judgement. It is only now that I ponder over the episode and wonder for the first time if it really is the projection of my mum who is thousands of kilometres away according to the human lore of time and space. I arrive at an inconclusive hypothesis that perhaps it could be a first degree impersonation. Sunday January 14th 2001 I had two visitors today from a religious congregation that has been trying for over a year now to convert me. I allow them to come whenever they ask for my audience, as listening doesn't hurt. I often gather useful information on other areas as they come bringing along with them their experiences and personal philosophies about life. I was born and raised in a catholic home, and attended a catholic primary school. Even though now I believe a more practical religion is Poetry, I still don't intend to be converted from my traditional religious roots. Every religion has the seed of truth buried in, and if man would allow these to flourish in true spiritual democracy, any religion would satiate man's spiritual cravings. As Max Muller said, "there is no false religion, nor has there ever really been a false religion, unless you want to call a man a false human being." Culture and tradition embody a religious dimension in their totality. To disregard or undermine a people's tradition, is tantamount to an insult on creation. When a person is forced against his will to change his religion or tradition, it might even result in mental instability as any change affects our total perception of the world around us. Imagine being forced to abandon your pattern of breathing and adopt a new one after, say, twenty years. In its manifold manifestations, Nature has a reason and room for everything. There is a right to have as many religions as man is capable of creating. It is the same as the variety of dishes that every country or people have. Food is food, and every single dish can arrest the pangs of hunger. If we don't like the taste of a particular one, we switch to another. Sometimes we get fed up with an excess of a particular type. We abandon it and come back to it later when we feel like. It would be wrong and foolish for a Chinese to claim that only by eating fried rice with sticks that hunger can be stopped. So too an African would be wrong in asserting that only by swallowing fufu with palm-oil soup. It goes for everyone, and religion is no exception. Certain plants flourish in particular areas because of the climate. Try hard as you would, it wouldn't do well elsewhere. So too with spiritual theories and practices. Certain ideas flourish in particular places because of natural squeaks - or this is how I see it. Perhaps I am wrong. But at this stage of my ignorance, I like this theory. To open our religious discussing, one of my visitors told me that before coming to me, they had been earlier to one of their targets for conversion - a Vietnamese; "He lost his mother recently and we tried to console him, reminding him of the promise of resurrection," she told me adding, "it was difficult to make him believe in this, and he asked me several times if am sure of this. He wasn't sure of himself and told me that in their tradition they believed that after forty nine days a deceased faces judgement, after which he or she goes to heaven or hell or whatever realm of punishment or reward their believe system stipulates. After burial and while pending the forty nine-day judgement, relatives are expected to offer prayers and sacrifices on behalf of the deceased. I noticed that there was a table in his room which was littered with fruits, candles and incense on behalf of his deceased mother. I assured him not to worry and invited him to join us in prayers. He told me that he cannot stop worrying because since he got news of her death, she has been visiting him in dreams and saying that she is angry because he did not attend her funeral. 'This happens every night, and now I am damned scared! She frightens me!' he told us. I told him that it wasn't his mother but a trick played by the Devil. 'Don't believe in this nonsense', I assure him," my visitor narrated. I didn't say anything. I remembered my dream of last night and realised then that my visitor is standing between myself and the Vietnamese. Though I didn't know him, there is a binding factor between us. His world is strikingly similar to mine with the only difference that he didn't believe in himself. In reminding myself that there exists space and time only when our eyes are open, I perceived a silent cultural war that threatened the Vietnamese's psychological stability. My visitor, I released, had tried to bring down a world that was mounted by the Vietnamese's totality, a world... his world that was assembled from the day he was born, and she had tried to bring it down with her religious arguments. "This is a ridiculous dimension of moral and spiritual aggression." I said to myself silently but showed no visible sign of disagreement. It wasn't necessary. Never, never license the eyes of a chanting man to pierce your soul... the gods are charmed by his lyrics, and... are bound to fulfil his intentions - and if these be evil then... you are a thing of the past. Warsaw, 3:53 AM, January 17th 2001 THE MIDNIGHT DANCE AT NOON by Simon Mol The Trans-African express bus from Accra finally reached the city of Douala at exactly 7:45 PM. A tall, slim young man of twenty seven highlighted, making for the bus station along with other passengers. He was fair in complexion, with a broad and serious looking face that endowed his character with the features of absolute self-discipline, as a psychologist would interpret his protruding cheek bones, large chine, wide and white eyes that always carried a straightforward stare and a broad forehead. He had a black briefcase in his left hand and was pulling a large travelling back with his right. He was dressed in a blue/black trouser under a blue checked long sleeve shirt, with a blue/black coat hanging loosely over his left shoulder. He had on a black shoe of Italian design. He looked elegant and walked with the springy strides of a successful criminal defence lawyer, but he wasn't one. He looked too elegant for the part of the continent where he was returning from, and where he was heading for - his home. He belonged to a different world in appearance, and his mind(?) Nganje got briefly swallowed by the crowd. Some of the people he rubbed shoulders with looked at him... others looked like him or he looked like them... and looked at them. Of all in the crowd he seemed to be the only one pressed for time. This was what he thought and had to restrain himself out of self-discipline from shouting or pushing at them. It is written that "journeys end in lovers meeting." He was rushing to reunite with the woman of his life. He was rushing to be assimilated by her desire set ablaze by three years of tormenting craving. He had resolved to offer no resistance to her fire and had decided to allow himself be overpowered by her emotions that had reached a volcanic crescendo after three years of absence when he left to continue his studies on social sciences in the neighbouring country of Ghana. He finished after two years and spent one year there working. All the while in Ghana he was dreaming of Eposi. The dream of his life and reason for being alive. It was impossible for her to visit him during the interval, as it wasn't generally safe for a young lady to travel alone by road out of the country. Incidents of rape and murder often happened and so they reluctantly decided to bare the brunt of absence and keep their love aflame through frequent letter exchanges. Nganje scanned the waiting crowd until his eyes fell on her. His face glowed with a broad smile and he waved excitedly. As their eyes met... this opened a world which immediately swallowed him... and her as well. It was their world, a secret world for just the two of them which was created and sustained by their combined dream... a powerful dream that defied physical laws, bridged distances and reduced three years to a simple rainy day that interrupted their game... a game for just the two of them in which victory was just as sweet as defeat. Nganje uttered a suppressed groan typical of a man who's been emotionally starved. He felt the animal in him coming back to alive and he encouraged it. An invisible energy cut across the distance between them and settled on his generative organ, he felt a light tingling along his spine to the top of his head. He rushed through the arrival formalities and quickly joined Eposi beside the waiting car. In respect of this sacred moment it is better to skip the scene of their first meeting, for how would the imagination capture it? How can words describe what transpired then? In the height of their folly, a folly that when set on course, rushes like a moving stream, only they knew and felt the speed at which they were travelling, without moving an inch from where they met for the first time after those three years of separation. Time stood still for them, and in their kissing they travelled with such speed that blinded them to the watching crowd as kissing and hugging in public is as rare as the falling of snow in their village. It is considered a moral aggression against public order and treated as a taboo. After a long interval in which they virtually melted into each other without uttering a single word except for the audible rapture of their kisses, they finally came around and got into the waiting old, battered mini wagon - a Peugeot 404 with a range of inharmonious colours resulting from countless repair works with a shy, shabbily dressed young country boy as its driver. Nganje had arranged for only Eposi to meet him upon arrival to express the esteem he held her in. The occasion was also aimed at providing enough special time for their first meeting. But another reason also was that coming from such a trip could easily provoke the evil-eye back in the village from witches and those of malicious intentions. And so he wanted to give his arrival a low-profile as much as he possibly could. "Beti darling!" Nganje managed at last, addressing her by her last name, which he was fond of. "Naoa!" she replied using his grandfather's name, whom Nganje loved dearly. 'Naoa' in their native tongue means rock. He smiled and clutched her with both hands, and tenderly too, like a child would hold a precious lump of ice-cream. His mouth found hers, and for a brief moment they were lost in ecstasy, completely oblivious to the driver's embarrassment. "Beti darling separation is the worst ailment that can befall lovers," adding, "I promise you it will never happen again." "Oh! Naoa!" she muttered and starting weeping. "Come on Beti, stop it... I tell you this won't happen again, it's over now forever believe me." He said, wrapping her in his arms. When he spoke, she noticed that his accent had taken on a Ghanaian touch. "Naoa darl, it is your people again! They don't want us to wed. Your senior sister says our wedding can only happen over her dead body. She meant it. We had a quarrel over it as I couldn't stand it anymore. She said your family is prepared to go the extra mile to prevent it. She went further to say 'our ancestors shall perform 'the night dance at midday' if this wedding comes to pass'... a very serious thing to say Naoa, it is a threat, and I am scared!" Beti starting weeping uncontrollably at this point. She sobbed and wailed aloud. This startled the driver and he stopped. "Come on Beti, don't dramatise the situation, you are making a storm out of a teacup. A here now to take care of everything," he paused for a while and continued, "by the way driver, stop at the very next motel, I want a place were we won't be recognised. Get a room for yourself and one for us and meet us at 8:30 a.m. tomorrow morning." Naoa then turned to Beti, "did you tell your mum about this development?" "No I didn't," Beti said, adding "If she knows about it, it won't be good for us, you know she is very principled. She had managed to bring her bubbling emotion under control aided by the persuasive and confident touch of Naoa. He led her from the car. All his fatigue immediately left him when he felt her so close. He scanned the environment, drinking in the splendour of the village air, which was very, very purifying. It was the second best thing that happened to him in one day. It had been so long. He surveyed the' area as far as his eyes would see and the fast falling darkness would permit. Thatched houses formed a zigzag along the twisting lane that cut across the little village, with fruit trees on both sides. The motel itself was a splendid display of local craftsmanship - wooden sculptures standing tall and proud, proclaiming the creativity of masked talents. He summed their worth mentally and figured that the products would fetch a chunk of money in Europe. He selected a bamboo chair and sat down with Beti on his lap. He ordered a cup of matu-tu- from the waitress who was dressed in tiger skin with her breast pointing at a provocative angle; a strategy aimed at attracting and distracting local clients and tourists who usually stopped there for a rest. Naoa sipped from the cup - a traditional treasure made from the horn of a cow revered by elders. His imagination fled to his days in the village before he travelled and settled there for a while before returning to the present, which was dedicated to. She was drinking water and her head rested on his knee. "Beti, if you believe in me as your man, then stop worrying." Naoa said and went on, "I acknowledge the enormous responsibility and crucial decision that rests on me, for it is either you or my family. I know that I can't have it both ways. But know that your love to me is very serious. I have never loved before, and don't intend to love another if you give me the chance. When I look into your eyes I see nothing but love. My greatest satisfaction stems from knowing that you care for me. I will Beti, give you marriage... the ultimate token of love from time immemorial." Naoa said these words sincerely, succinctly, and with such gentleness that only the soul knows of. It had such a hypnotic influence on her that she melted like a lump of ice-cream exposed under summer heat. She could only weep to tell him that she believed absolutely in him. "Oh! Tateh..." She used the informal name for daddy, "you have changed so much... so much!" she whispered. "Yes! Ndolo la mi," he said in their native tongue, which meant 'my love', and added, "conditions change, but not convictions... the conviction of my love for you is like the sound of the river behind our village that never changes." He replied taking her in his arms. He looked into her eyes and added, "Now let's see if I have changed on the bed too!" Carrying her like a baby, he entered the little room made of clay and laid her gently on the bamboo bed. He proceeded to undress her. Drinking in the splendour of her real identity, he trembled visibly as his senses reacted swiftly to the charm of her nakedness. His imagination was temporarily clouded by a wild passion that bordered on frenzy. She saw his reaction and remained silent. She closed her eyes, hoping that he would get into her rather than standing there in stupor. It was too much for both of them. "This is my day," he managed at last as he struggled off his dress, "please don't stop me until am through!" His mouth found hers, descended over her breast and finally unto her pubic area. "Oh! darl," she wailed joyfully, "please no!....no! nooooh! Now!" His tongue descended into her. This drove her into a frenzy. "You are killing me! Do it now!" she quivered. And Naoa, like a tired carpenter hitting on a stubborn nail, descended into her... gradually. She fainted in ecstasy as they simultaneously crossed the winning line, yet both were blind to the price of the race... the sowing of the life-giving seed for their first baby. An unmonitored phenomenon which time wouldn't allow them to unravel. Oh! fate! How hard you strike! - How fast your darkness descends When the sun is seemingly far from the horizon! Naoa and Beti didn't know when sleep stole over them. It was the driver's knock that got them up. Beti nursed a fear. She wondered if Naoa will stand by her in spite of all his assurances. Matters of tradition were treated with fanaticism in his clan, and his tradition decreed that the father should select a wife for the son. She loved him fervently and couldn't imagine a life without him. Naoa severed her virginity and was her social mentor as well. He taught her vital lessons necessary for a woman's maturity- an essential weapon in tackling the difficult world of male dominance. These things have left an indelible mark in her mind, and made living without him impossible. And now this! What will she tell her mother if the wedding failed to come off? she asked herself. What will people and her friends think of her? While Naoa was away, some where teased her, while others provoked her. Others even told her she was a fool to wait for him, as he will meet a more beautify woman where he was and get married to her. She had turned down the proposal of many, especially of Luma - a wealthy and successful banker, to the dismay of her family. She spent almost a year in Naoa's family home against the wish of her mum, and some friends and neighbours address her as Mrs. Nganje. She had clearly defied her tradition in this case as a girl isn't suppose to live in the home of her fiancee without the first stage of the traditional rites been performed. Will Naoa do the same for her? Will he defy his tradition for her sake? His father was against their marriage for the simple reason that she wasn't a full member of his tribe, as her mother belonged to another tribe. Her father who could have solved the issue as a member of Naoa's tribe was of late, having died two years earlier. She wept when she thought of her father. Naoa's self-confidence since his return, created fears in her as it made it difficult to read his mind. She knew their fear was based on selfish grounds, that she will prevent Naoa from helping them. "How naive" she said to herself aloud, "how cruel after all what I have done for them! Can't they think of my situation?" She resumed her crying at this point while waiting for Naoa who had gone out with friends. Naoa craved to be alone. It was a crucial period in his life as he had to make a choice. It was a difficult decision to make and his position was tricky. "Still... I must stand up as a man and dance to the tune of my destiny. I must face what is coming to me," he said to himself. It was a week since his arrival and he was suppose to start his new job, but had asked for time to resolve the marriage equation first. He was given three weeks and time was running out. Last night he had a talk with his father over the issue of his proposed marriage to Eposi. His father was inflexible in his decision, which ruled out any marriage to her. He was running out of time and patience. He was sitting on a little hill under a tree at a lonely spot behind the village quite close to the stream where villagers came to fetch water. He wanted to think, and resolve to leave there only after settling the issue for once in his mind. He had categorically decided to marry her, and was hoping that with time he would convince his father to play along, but the old man was bent on having his way. Already elders in the village were pointing fingers at him as a recalcitrant who was trying to sabotage ancestral principles. "How dare he choose a wife for himself instead of his father," they said within their circle. "They stubbornly refuse to consider the girl's position in the whole matter," he reasoned with himself. He disagreed with their conclusion that he should consult the 'Nganga' (shaman), to predict if Eposi was good for him. He had been informed by his cousin and best friend that the family had been to the Nganga, and his finding was that she wasn't the woman for him. "The Nganga was emphatic about it, saying over and over again that Eposi belonged to a different world which was fast approaching to claim her!" he was told. "Nonsense!" he had replied. He did not believe in rituals, and attended traditional rendezvous more out of obligation than faith. But the revelation temporarily clouded his reasoning. "I wouldn't have my fate decided by the casting of cowries for divination! Impossible!" he said aloud, startling some birds that were perched on the tree where he was sitting. "This girl inspired me in the past. I owe my success to her. She helped me when I was down, traditional principles didn't!... no!" he murmured, "to let her down is inhuman. I am ready to help my family whenever possible, even Eposi can't stop me. But when it comes to my private life, I remain the sole architect of my future.. I will marry her," he said silently, "time is my witness, and all those things that shall come to pass, which at this point are shrouded by the unknown... even that which I cannot change." He felt satisfied with this decision and slowly rose from under the tree, heading for home. He met Eposi lying on her stomach. She had cried herself to sleep. She was feeling irritated for no apparent reason, and had been to the toilet twice to vomit. The first stage of pregnancy was already having its effect on her. Nganje who had no experience in such matters was alarmed, but she assured him it wasn't anything strange. News of her pregnancy only added to his resolution to marry her at any cost. They went to sleep clasped in each other's arms. The calling of "Eposi!, Eposi!" got them up from sleep. It was an early Saturday morning. Nganje looked at the time, it was 6:30 a.m. 'Who could be such an early morning caller?' he wondered. "See who it is darling," he told Eposi. She got up lazily. She wasn't in a very good mood, as she had a troubling dream. "It is your aunt," she told him. Nganje dressed and went out. Under the large 'Beke-ku tree' were family meetings often held, sat his family notables. He had not been informed of such an impromptu meeting he thought. The children who usually played 'tabala' early in the morning were absent, his youngest Uncle was passing a round of 'Matu-tu' (a local wine made from raffia palm) with 'Njakatu' (a tropical fruit) and alligator pepper. Eposi went and greeted them, and joined Nganje at the veranda. "Wait for me inside," he told her slowly, with a light pad on her back and went to join the meeting. "I salute you all." He greeted with a light bow of his head in a sign of respect to elders. "We accept your greetings," came a chorus response. He realised that none looked him in the face. He knew why without being told. He sat down and regretted the absence of his maternal grandpa who was dead, and his mother who wasn't present, as women were not allowed to take part in such meetings reserved for men. He accepted the Njakatu, but turned down the matu-tu, thinking it was too early. There was an interval of general conversation on the weather and the farming season. His most senior paternal uncle said; "Mola Ngeka has predicted that the rain would come very late this season because people are abusing the land." "Oh! that's serious," replied his paternal uncle who is a court clerk, "I don't treat Mola Ngeka's statements lightly. I remember before the earthquake he said 'Efas' a moto would proclaim his anger shortly', and in less than a week, there was the earthquake!" he said seriously. Efas' a moto is their tribal god believed to be made of stone and flesh and living on the mountain. At this point, Nganje's father cleared his throat thereby signalling silence. "I called this meeting," he started, "in order to settle the issue of Nganje's marriage for once," his eyes went round, but avoided Nganje. He continued, "before I ask his opinion, I would like Mbamba Mbua to address the issue as tradition demands." Mbamba Mbua was the oldest family member alive, with one hundred and fourteen years, yet he was still strong and walked upright. "I know," he began, "that young people today think they know everything, even more than those who brought them to life. But only a foolish person would even attempt to race with beings he cannot see, or dream of breaking a golden chain of tradition from our ancestors. Some try to defy this doctrine, and even succeed, but for how long? When man thinks he has reached the end of the race against the ancestors, it is at this point that the ancestors even start to race. In the beginning they allow him to shoot ahead... at human pace, for they are spirits, and their speed is something human time cannot measure." He stopped for breath, "this is all I have to say." He concluded and took a long drink from his matu-tu cup - the horn of a male cow that had been cleaned with a piece of broken bottle to an extend that it shone like a mirror. There was silence. Nganje's father pulled out his snuff box, hit it thrice with his left thumb and inserted a lump of snuff into his large nostrils. Nobody spoke. Finally one of his uncles, a retired police constable injected, "Yes Nganje, we are waiting to hear from you." Nganje looked round at them, he was alone and their presence was too strong for him, but he remembered Eposi and his promise. This seemed to add to his strength. Mbamba Mbua bowed his head, with his walking stick held in both hands. Everyone was looking at Nganje, and he started speaking slowly. "The situation is quite difficult, and I can't at this point disappoint her. To do this would mean an unforgivable betrayal. No parents... I humbly wish to execute my promise to her." He did not tell them that she was pregnant. In spite of his scepticism concerning traditional rituals, he wasn't taking chances. It had to be kept a secret for now. Beside such a news would spark an uproar. "Nganje listen to us, we are your blood and we have a right to decide which or what blood comes into this family," said the retired constable. "But then you should consider the position of the subjects concerned, myself and Eposi," he answered. "Are you trying to be an advocate of modernism?" asked his uncle the court clerk. "Perhaps and advocate of individualism," he replied coldly as he was getting at the edge of his nerves, "let's try to be reasonable in this matter, you are pushing me to the edge of the cliff. I wouldn't be able to live with my conscience for the rest of my live if I frustrate Eposi... and you are asking me to frustrate her!" "It is not frustrating her. She and her family will understand... they are not strangers to our tradition," interrupted Ilongo - a most senior cousin of his - who is a professional palm-wine taper and traditional hard-liner. He belonged to the famous and feared 'elephant cult' and everyone was afraid of him... including Nganje who in the past didn't want to have anything to do with him. But now he had outgrown his fears and was ready to challenge whoever challenged his decision. "You should know that I wasn't the only suitor, Eposi turned down others for my sake. It would be cruel to let her down on my part. It would be suicidal. I respect our tradition, but tradition I think, has a limit when it comes to matters of the heart, for I feel the pain, when you aim blows at her even in her absence," Nganje said firmly. "How dare you!" shouted his father, "out of my sperm!" "Slow down papa," cautioned Nganje, "lets try to be fair. We blame our leaders for tyranny, and denounce inflexible capitalism. But this is an instant of sadistic tyranny and crude capitalism buried behind uncompromising traditional laws. But as it is my future we are talking about, I think I have the final word here. Tradition has its place in a community, it does influence a society, but not a conscious individual... at least not me," he said with an Olympian calmness. "This is simply incredible! I!... Ngolo Lifafa!... a child that sprouted from a drop of my sperm!... dares to break this golden chain from the ancestors! May I live not to see the outcome of it! May I be deaf and dumb when the Ancestors shall descend to ask for the defaulter to be pointed out! May I have no fingers left to point my own son!" shouted his father. A silence followed. Everyone including Nganje knew his father had reached the threshold of opening the judgement door... a serious dimension at the way things were going. Mbamba Mbua clutched his walking stick in both hands, he was visibly under psychological tension. As the oldest family member responsible for the protection of the family when it comes to matters of the gods and ancestors, he knew this particular situation was out of his control. "No! Ngolo!" retorted Mbamba Mbua, "please! stop it before the 'midnight dance is performed at midday! The consequences would be out of my control then... or yours!" "It is already out of our control" replied his father. "Nganje!... please apologise before it becomes too late," advised one of his brothers in-law. "For what?" he asked, "well, perhaps for being born! I see no wrong done on my part that warrants an apology. This is my life remember, and I will not allow any foreign opinion to decide my future!" he was at the end of his patience and was already angry. "Nganje! you call our tradition 'foreign opinion? Generation after generation and you become the first to break this chain of ritualistic order!" responded Ilongo, adding, "If you think you are strong enough, then I ask you to swear by the family shrine and go your own way... alone!" "You don't have to invoke the gods in this," Nganje replied, " I am not against native customs. I am simply considering the stakes. I, Nganje!... have to live with a woman all my life,... not your life,... not a god's life! My life!" he almost shouted, then brought himself under control and continued, "can you tell me why two people who love each other cannot live together because a traditional custom says so?" he finished, looking around slowly. "Okay," said Ilongo, "we shall see where this love will lead you to. You are showing us your ability to speak big grammar not so? After all the efforts to educate you, now you rise against the family!" "I believe now that my relationship with this family isn't founded on love, for when there is love there is kindness, and a willingness to make a sacrifice. But I see no love here... only a lore and its unbending laws. I see my people rising against me because I dare to be myself. I am sorry but I have crossed the rubicon... and there is no turning back.... I will marry her!" he replied. There ensued a long silence... nobody moved or said anything. Nganje remained standing. Five full minutes elapsed. His father reached for his snuff box, hit it thrice with his left thumb and opened it. Mbamba Mbua reached for his tobacco pipe, which he succeeded to light after shoving little dry leaves that he removed from a corner in his hat. After pulling at it twice, he started: "Nganje my grandson, the soil is trembling under my feet," he paused, "and under yours," he added. When he said 'and under yours', he lifted his eyes and looked at him adding slowly, "the love of a 'man', is never expressed in words... but it is often expressed with a gift, which sometimes is not seen with the eyes. I loved you from birth... I loved you even before you were born. If I had my way, I would allow you to marry Esposi. But in this case my way isn't important,... only that of the ancestors. It is difficult not only for you, but for all of us. For some time now your grandma has been calling me from 'the other side' and I am getting set to meet her. It is only there that one has absolute freedom... that is, when we too become Ancestors. I feel what you feel. I am like you, but only time stands between us. I have heard your final word but because I love you, I will not say anything... I must go home now." he concluded, getting unsteadily to his feet and started walking to the wooden gate and out of the compound to his home, a few yards away. A dead silence descended. Other relatives started getting up as well, going into the house for breakfast, which was been prepared by the women who had stayed inside the house. Nganje slowly walked back to his room and met Eposi crying. He took her in his arms. The issue of his marriage to Eposi was left hanging between him and his family. However a tension developed between him and his father at home. A week later he moved into his new flat provided by the firm he was to work for. Exactly seventeen days after the Family meeting, Mbamba Mbua passed away. Nganje wept miserably when a relative came to inform him. He knew then that the old man loved him indeed. They left immediately with Esposi for the funeral in his new Renault car. He took charge of the funeral and provided his grandfather a decent burial. It was the first time he met his family after the meeting. Throughout the three day event, Eposi kept a low profile in the company of her best friend - Enjema, who knew about her situation and was giving her moral support. However the issue of their marriage was temporarily clouded by the passing away of grandpa. Two weeks after the funeral, Nganje started making plans for their wedding. As it was clear that most of his family members especially the older ones were not in agreement of it, they decided to perform the traditional rites of meeting Eposi's family in a low-profile, and planned to highlight instead the court and church marriage rites shortly after by throwing a stupendous 'Bachelors' eve' and a grandiose party the day after. This was to be two weeks after the 'forty day death celebration' of Nganje's grandfather. As it is an important celebration in respect of the dead and since Nganje loved the old man, they decided to be patient. Eposi's pregnancy was already visible, and the joy of expecting a new baby gave them hope and helped to reduce the tension provoked by the issue of their marriage. And now living in the little administrative town where Nganje had his office, and away from their families, helped to rebuilt their happiness. They were living in their world once again. Thirty five days after the dead of Mbamba Mbua and five days away from the 'forty day dead celebration, Nganje sat with Eposi in their dining room to plan the next day, in which they hoped to visit a famous market in another town a few kilometres away to organise a wedding rob, and visit Eposi's mother on their way back. "Well darl, so that's it," Nganje said and continued, "we shall get a rob that befits your beauty, for a wedding should happen only once in the life of any two serious people. What do you think?" he asked Eposi. "What can I say Naoa? I cannot wait for it to happen, and the baby too is happy!" she answered. "Hummm!... the baby!" Nganje murmured taking her in his arms and caressing her stomach lightly, "lets go to bed now and hear what the baby has to tell us, agree?" he asked carrying her into the bedroom. "As if I have the will to say no!" she said laughing as they rolled on the double bed, rushing off their dresses and making for under the bedcovers. They talked late into the night, before falling asleep simultaneously. They clutched unto each other, but when they reached the multiple junction of the dream world, each went a separate way. Mola Ngeka closed the door of his little hut and walked unsteadily to the front. He stood for a while gazing at the sky. It was a sunny afternoon, and he knew that he had to get to the motor road about two kilometres away before the dove sang its midday hymn in respect of nature, which will signal 3:00 p.m. He had already fed the dove its afternoon meal. Since his arrival in the forest where he lived as a hermit now, a friendship had developed between himself and the white dove. Whenever he sat outside his hut to have the warmth of the sun, the dove would often perch on the arm of his chair. Mola Ngeka communicated with the dove in a language understood only by the elements of nature. He had decided to move away from the main village because he couldn't stand any longer the growing noise, which destabilised his inner harmony. He went there now only when he had to see a sick family member, or during funerals.... he had all he needed in the forest to live peacefully and travel whenever he felt like... without moving an inch. Yesterday as he sat gazing into the glowing flame of the little fire in his hut, he was about to engage in a long journey when his attention was caught by an unfolding drama, which would transpire the following day. He knew he had to be at the site not to prevent anything, as he couldn't, but as a witness. He had to be by the side of the motor road at the precise spot, at the point called 'the bend of Boana'. He got there exactly fifteen minutes before it happened. As he stood there waiting, he fixed his stare at the sky. Nobody paid him any attention as they were used to his unprecedented and strange behaviour, which some described as madness. Eposi was standing by the car waiting for Nganje who had returned into the house to collect the documents of the vehicle. If he had not forgotten it, perhaps it would have been a different story all together. But fate has a way of fixing things to meet its appointment. They got into the car and when Nganje sparked the engine it failed to respond... it happened thrice before igniting. He wondered why as the car was new and had never given such trouble. It was the first time. As he drove on, he stopped a hundred metres away to give an old lady a lift. "Ah! my son, thank you very much ooh!" the old lady said, "my bones are cracking already, and I was just wondering how to make it to the store to buy kerosene for my lantern." "You don't need to worry ma," he replied. "How is my wife Eposi, when are we coming to eat plantain?" the old lady asked, meaning when will she put to birth. "Not too long from now I hope, by the will of the Lord," she answered as Nganje stopped the car to drop the old lady off. They had left the house in high spirits, but it seemed as if the old lady left with their happiness, for when they took off after dropping her, a silence descended in the car. They drove in silence. Eposi released a deep sigh. Nganje didn't say anything. He wanted to speak, but couldn't. He took in a deep breath and unconsciously reduced speed, though he was driving within the speed limit. "Nganje?" Eposi called. "Yes?" he answered her, but she never continued what she intended to say. He didn't know what it was and never knew, for it was swallowed by the mystery of the present. They where just about to negotiate the 'Boana bend', when Eposi saw what mortals are not suppose to see.... she uttered a loud scream and jumped from her seat. Nganje under the influence of the surprise shout, lost control of the wheel. The car infiltrated on the opposite track reserved for coming vehicles and collided solidly with a timber lorry that was coming from the opposite direction. The crash was absolute... and final in its fatality. The sound of its impact travelled far too, was heard miles away, and merged with the sound of the drums of the ancestors who were performing 'the night dance at noon'. Their passing was swift and painless. Birds flew away in fright. As the echo of the crash faded, the sound of mourning replaced it, and people started gathering, peeping at the remains of the little car and its unfortunate occupants. Mola Ngeka wasn't looking at the direction of the scene, his attention was focused at the other side of the road where a drama was unfolding, which he was its sole witness. It was Eposi who came around first. She looked around her and shook Nganje. They were speechless in realising themselves by the roadside, sitting on the grass and in their spirit bodies. They looked in horror at their crumpled bodies in the twisted car. For a while they watched speechlessly as people started to gather at the site of the accident. When the police arrived and proceeded to pull their bodies from the car, Eposi could stand it no longer and yelled, but no sound came out, or a sound only she and Nganje heard. There followed a second scream emitted above them, they looked up simultaneously and saw a little spirit baby hovering above; it was their baby that was to be. Eposi burst out in tears and reached out for her. This made her to defy gravity and she floated off. She then pulled Nganje by the arm and to her amazement they floated together. She wasn't sure of herself, but soon adjusted to the new phenomenon. She soon lost interest in matters of the fast decaying flesh that was been bundled away in an ambulance and concentrated on their newly found freedom. It struck her for the first time, and with the baby in her left arm and Nganje by her right, she headed for the sea a few miles away. They all flew in this direction, knowing instinctively that it was where they belonged. An endless journey had just begun for them. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #588 Underground eXperts United 2001 uXu #588 http://www.uXu.org/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------