Nearly twenty-five years ago, I wrote a novel titled CIPHERS, which featured scenes of voodoo in Benin. Long before YouTube was even a concept, I had to do all my research in books. I would have killed to see this video.
Imagine the Sahara desert. A vast, arid sandbox with limited plant life. And the Tenere is a region of the southern Sahara with an extremely hot and dry climate and even more limited plant life. But up until 1973, there was a lonely acacia tree known as the Tree of Ténéré (L’Arbre du Ténéré). Being so isolated, the tree became a landmark on caravan routes and earned a place on most maps of the area. It stood for decades as a beacon for weary travelers, until a drunk driver knocked it down. Yup, the only tree in the entire region and the drunk managed to hit it. In remembrance to what was once considered to be the most isolated tree on Earth, a metal pole was put in its place. You'll need a translator for The Story but the pictures are fairly self-explanatory.
Recently in Kenya, women decided to boycott sex in order to protest the relations between President Mwai Kibaki and Prime Minister Raila Odinga. Well, one man was a little too upset over not being able to get his jollies off and decided to sue the activists who organized the boycott. The man, James Kimondo, said "the seven-day sex ban...resulted in stress, mental anguish, backaches and lack of sleep..." CNN
A group of fanatical religious terrorists, holed up in their mountain redoubts and battling an occupying government. Surely this description must apply to some modern-day group and situation, such as in Afghanistan, or perhaps Africa...? And the terrorists will in all likelihood be Islamic, right?
I learned about this historical incident from reading Robert Louis Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey. (You can find the entire text of the book here.) Stevenson traveled through the region once ruled by the Camisards, and evoked the romance of their rebellion.
There, a hundred and eighty years ago, was the chivalrous Roland, "Count and Lord Roland, generalissimo of the Protestants in France," grave, silent, imperious, pock-marked ex-dragoon, whom a lady followed in his wanderings out of love. There was Cavalier, a baker's apprentice with a genius for war, elected brigadier of Camisards at seventeen, to die at fifty-five the English governor of Jersey. There again was Castanet, a partisan in a voluminous peruke and with a taste for divinity. Strange generals who moved apart to take counsel with the God of Hosts, and fled or offered battle, set sentinels or slept in an unguarded camp, as the Spirit whispered to their hearts! And to follow these and other leaders was the rank file of prophets and disciples, bold, patient, hardy to run upon the mountains, cheering their rough life with psalms, eager to fight, eager to pray, listening devoutly to the oracles of brainsick children, and mystically putting a grain of wheat among the pewter balls with which they charged their muskets.
Pretty weird, huh? And right in Europe, not all that long ago.
The last sentence from Stevenson is particularly intriguing, since it conjures up comparisons to the Mai-Mai rebels in the Congo today, who believe that certain magical charms protect them against bullets; that their own bullets are invulnerable to counter charms; and that ritual cannibalism of their enemies is still a grand idea.
Once Europe had its own Mai-Mai's. Perhaps someday Africa will be rid of theirs.
Category: Cannibalism, Food, Stereotypes and Cliches, 1960's, Africa