The Verdict
of Hades
Janvier Chando
TISI BOOKS
NEW YORK, RALEIGH, LONDON, AMSTERDAM
PUBLISHED BY TISI BOOKS
This story is dedicated to everyone who repent, paid penance and sought redemption.
My deepest, warmest and everlasting thanks to my entire family and friends. Special thanks to my 4D classmates.
“Our grandchild is our friend and our true child in sobriety; the grandchild is also a parent, a husband, a wife, a brother, a sister or a child missed; but above all, this special child is an ascertainment of the continuity of a bloodline and somebody we wish to protect even from our mistakes.”
SUSAN NJIKI NJUTEU-CHOUTEU
“The full protection of our ancestors and the armor of God are powerful shields to cherish in life.”
FLORENCE N. CHANDO
“The humane legacies of our ancestors are the frameworks of progress that could be followed, revised or improved, but that should never be rejected.”
SUSAN N. CHANDO-NJOMO
“The most fulfilling and reliable parent-child relationship is one involving the trust of a sister’s child whose affection for you is at the level for a parent.”
JOSEPHINE N. CHANDO
“The depth of a woman’s love is a reflection of her ties to the fatherly and brotherly figures in her life, and the degree of honesty, love, trust and respect that she developed with those male figures.”
ANNE-MARIE N. CHANDO
It takes a great deal of nimble-wittedness to figure out the true nature of our people, even when analogized. That is why Wakam’s story about Ngoko and his despicable performance drove me into a moment of contemplation. But it turned out to be short-lived because of the drink right there in front of us. My third mug of palm wine for the day must have worked its magic on me because I was about to engage my grandfather and Wakam for another story when Darya appeared, bustling in high spirits. She greeted the old men in a singsong voice and then moved over to my side and whispered into my ear. I got the message. My grandmother wanted to see me. I did not like the idea of leaving right away, especially with the keg of palm wine still standing half-empty on the red earth of Wakam’s front yard.
The fact that I cherished the idea of leaving right away says a lot about the wonderful time we were having. But Darya would have none of it and prodded me repeatedly to get up and follow her. Even my subtle pressure and attempts to sweet talk her failed to loosen her tongue for an explanation of the mischievous smile lingering on her lips and in her eyes. So, I sat back and eyed her in a suspicious manner. When I beckoned her over, flashed her a 500 CFA Francs banknote, and then slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans shorts, it was my last attempt to have her on my side. Still, the tip failed to convince her to spill out the secret. Exasperated, I excused myself from the old men and followed her back home, wondering what it was all about, but convinced that my grandmother was up to something. After all, she’d been working hard to hang Averill Membou on me in a scheme where her granddaughter was proving to be her willing accomplice.
I realized I was so wrong in my suspicions the moment I arrived at our family abode. Looking slightly agitated as he sat in a traditional easy chair in the sitting room was my childhood friend called Michel Wambou. I ran forward and bear-hugged him in a boisterous manner that left Darya’s mouth agape. Other ritual greetings followed that. In fact, even the slaps we gave each other on the back and the toasting of our fingers did not appear to be too demanding. They did not have to be because I was happy to see my friend again after almost a decade.
The last time I saw Michel was when he was a mini bus driver plying the roads of the Western and Littoral Provinces. That was before I left Bankole for Kumba, and then England. Michel was a thin young man at the time who fancied himself mostly in jeans and T-shirts that were often in need of laundry. Now, the fellow looked burly with a slightly puffy-faced and a thick neck like a wrestler’s. He was clean-shaven too, with his hair cropped and a line carved through it in the style of the 1970s. The guy was even spotting a Martin Luther King Jr. moustache.
However, the one thing that struck me the most about my friend was his outfit. Michel was wearing a grey suit, a white Yves-Saint-Laurent shirt, a blue silk tie and a superb hand-made black pair of shoes. Even his grayish belt met the standards of haute couture. In fact, he looked everything of a stunner that day as he sat in a relaxed manner facing me. The fragrance of the “Poisson” perfume he had applied to his body also smacked of the high taste he developed over the years. With my smell buds thus assaulted and compromised, I pulled a chair close to his side and sat down in it.
Michel explained to me that he decided to pass by to say hello as he often did each time he happened to be in Bankole or its vicinity, and that he couldn’t contain his joy when my cousin told him I was around from the land of white men. And since he was too anxious to see the changes I had undergone, he could not wait until I was done with whatever business I was having with the old seers, which explained why he convinced my grandmother to make Darya get me back home. When I asked him why he didn’t join us instead, he let me know in a sort of conspiratorial manner that Wakam recently took a dislike to him for no apparent reason, even though he was fond of him before. I did not probe any further. The old seers could be too judgmental sometimes.
I enjoyed our hearty conversation that seemed timeless and endless until Michel suggested that we drive to Bafoussam for an amusing time together. I could not decline the offer for the simple reason that I still viewed him as our local Figaro with the knack for changing the minds of those hedonistic lassies who try to pass around as traditionalists.
Truth be told, Michel’s popularity made the trip worthwhile. Traffic in Bafoussam was heavy that market day, but that did not matter at all. We hardly drove for more than fifty yards without someone calling out his name with relish or waving at him amicably. He introduced me to fascinating characters, explained the workings of the city to me better than any tour guide I could think of, and he also helped me improve my knowledge of the central Bamileké people of the region. We graced five bars for beer and whisky; we ate pepper soup, roasted goat meat, wild venison, roasted African bush plumes and ripe plantains; and we even treated ourselves to tasty palm-tree maggots. Michel’s unwaveringly popularity burst into the open in all the spots that we patronized. Putting it briefly, I enjoyed the motion of it all, oblivious to the lateness of the hour.
When Michel suggested afterwards that we pay a visit to his female friend’s home, I saw no reason to say no and slipped into his Peugeot 504 like a teenager on his way to his first prom. After all, it was already dark, and a little rest was something I needed. But that was not exactly what he was looking forward to.
We went to his friend’s home all right, rested on her couch awhile and even indulged in a little carousal of whisky. Marie, as the young woman was called, was not happy at all that we declined the appetizing Ekwang dish she offered. However, she alighted with joy when we ate the fried groundnuts and Bitter Kola (Garcinia Kola) she served with it. The appetizers went well with the alcohol in our system because I felt a lot less intoxicated afterwards.
Marie excused herself soon afterward, left us in the parlor thereafter, only to re-emerge about a quarter of an hour later looking gorgeous in her outfit. Her miniskirt did much to arouse my curiosity because it revealed a fantastic pair of legs that reassured me of my virility.
Our next stop after Marie’s home was a cafeteria where she hopped out of the car only to return minutes after with an ebony-complexioned young woman whose beauty could have made Aphrodite jealous had she treaded the world of the ancient Greek deities. That was why I was blushing foolishly as she too hopped into the car, and then suggested in an instant that we go to a nightclub. When she asked me what my name was in her singsong voice, I had a hard time overcoming the sudden dryness and tightness in my throat. So, I mumbled like a child who had just lost all his teeth, and then went on to blabber and stutter throughout the drive.
Marie and Brigitte were of an exotic class of their own, with a zest for life that made me feel like a monk out of the monastery for the first time in a decade. In a few words, the night turned out to be a memorable one to the point where I felt afterwards like a mountain climber in need of a full day’s rest.
I can apportion a part of the blame to Brigitte for my sorrowful state the next morning. She exhausted me to the point where Michel actually had to drag my drubbed self out of bed early for the one-hour drive back to Bankole. He told me upon arrival that I had a wondering smile on my face throughout the journey. The truth is that I remembered nothing about the drive itself.
However, dawn was on the horizon when he dropped me off at our home. And since I obviously had no business staying awake to witness the rising sun, I crashed in my bed and joined the cocks in announcing the new day.
Breakfast was something I failed to honor that morning despite attempts by Darya and my grandmother to wake me up for the morning meal. After frustrating them a couple of times with my protesting groans, they finally accepted the futility of their efforts and left me alone to continue my role as an honored guest in slumberland. That left me wallowing underneath the blanket until around midafternoon when I felt strong enough to confront my hangover. So, I slipped out of bed and dragged my feet into the bathroom, where I sponged myself up with a hand towel, and then poured water on my head to do away with my headache. Now feeling slightly refreshed, I drank a calabash of water and then headed for the sitting room feeling slightly groggy. I didn’t expect to find anyone there. But there they were—my Bankole family—already seated at the dining table, all set for lunch.
I greeted them guiltily and took a seat next to Darya’s, doing my best to avoid their eyes. The meal was great, even though we said little while we ate, except for the few comments my grandmother made. All she got back from her husband were responses that were more of grunts than anything else. It even got to a point where I told myself that somebody had to break the dreariness.
That was why I turned to my grandfather with a placating smile. “Tell me, Tama! What is wrong with my star?” I asked the old seer, using his maternal title of respect known as Ndap, in a tone meant to keep the exchange just between the two of us.
My grandfather sat back in his chair and fixed his eyes on me. “Your grandmother and I are very concerned about you.”
“Uh-huh!” I replied
“Maybe it is my fault,” he said and rubbed his chin.
“What fault?”
He sighed, avoiding my eyes. “Huh! I discovered something about Michel. He is in a bad society. Beware of him.”
“Bad society?”
“Can’t you see it from his rapid rise to affluence?” he asked in an irritated voice.
“Bad society! Famla?” I stuttered, feeling a sudden dryness in my throat.
My grandfather nodded. “That’s why I want you to stay away from him. He hasn’t done any harm to your wellbeing, yet. Trust me, he was clean while with you yesterday. Besides, I kept an eye on your every move and cloaked you with my full protection.”
I heaved a sigh of relief. “When did you find out about his involvement…with the evil forces?”
My grandfather grimaced. “Last week. No one knows about it except Wakam. The babbling fool knew about it all along.”
“Now, I understand why Michel didn’t want to meet your friend yesterday.”
He sighed. “My friend talks like a woman. He actually offered to help Michel out of his bondage with the society, but Michel, the buffoon, could not step up to the challenge.”
“When did he offer to help him?”
“A week ago.”
“And why is Michel refusing his help?”
“It requires courage, son of my noble son,” my grandfather said with a nod, “Yes, Nana Njike! Any ritual to free him from that society requires his family’s knowledge about it. Another requirement is for him to confess all his past dealings with that evil group. Michel doesn’t want to step up to such a challenge and the possible publicity.”
“Has he…huh, already offered someone to the society?” I asked, squirming in my seat.
“Of course, he has,” My grandfather said in a voice laced with sadness, “His wife, his second child and his driver died in a car accident two years ago.”
“But he never mentioned a word about the tragedy to me while we were together yesterday,” I said, looking perplexed.
“Why should he?”
“I am his friend.”
“Grow up. He considers his ties to that society as his business, and no one else’s. You are the private side of his life.”
“You scared me there.”
“You asked about your star not long ago, or didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh! Grandma must have thought she could frighten me with this story about something quite unnatural about my star,” I said aloud and winked at Darya.
“It was about him getting married,” my grandmother interjected with an incredulous expression on her face, and then shook her head in a funny manner.
My grandfather’s first reply to that was a grunt. “It is about time you know why you have a strange star, my son. You were meant to have a brief sojourn in this world, and then return to your world that truly needs you. But I twisted things around to prolong your stay here after I saw your infant eyes and decided to make you one of ours. I shielded you from returning in a process that involved countless divinations. However, I didn’t figure out something about your star until recently.”
“You are making me nervous.”
“You don’t have to be any more. There is something else you need to bear in mind.”
“That I am about to die?”
“No, no, no, Nana Njike! You are forbidden to marry any woman who is truly meant for this world. Your stars would be incompatible. Francesca Ndonkeu was one of the few women with a star similar to yours. It doesn’t need a seer to make you understand why she was so tenacious in her effort to make you her man.”
“Not her, not her,” I protested strongly.
“Of course, it won’t be her. She is already married to a lesser man of her star,” my grandfather said.
“Huh, huh…huh!” I chortled, “Grandma tried to convince me that Pa Tchami’s daughter is the right woman for me.”
“So far, she is the best option we have for you. You are both from the same place. The Custodian of your world won’t get angry if the two of you get together as husband and wife. But their wrath would be difficult to contain if you marry a common star. Trust me on this one. It is not worth living a life without happiness by marrying a woman meant for this world.”
“What does that mean?”
“I take it you have enough common sense to understand that your relationships or affairs with the true women of this world are meant to be casual only.”
“And what if I insist on defying Si―The Supreme?” I asked, feigning seriousness all of a sudden.
My grandfather shrugged, and then shook his head. “You dare not. If you do, your penalty would be a series of tragedies that would haunt you for the rest of your life. You don’t want to find yourself with a string of dead wives and children as a legacy to bequeath to those who love you, do you?”
I shuddered. “Let’s not talk about it. You were worried yesterday about someone who, uh, uh…uh, who died in Douala.”
He muttered a depressed sigh and looked away again. “Why must you keep reminding me like a buzzing fly?”
“I am curious, that’s all. I am being just like your true child. Besides, Grandma and Darya would love to hear you tell a story.”
“Not me…not me. Count me out of it,” my grandmother protested, got up and started clearing the dishes on the table.
We watched her in silence as she left with them for the backyard. I was about to say something funny when I noticed my grandfather shaking his head. “What?” I asked.
“I sometimes wonder why I married that woman,” my grandfather said in an undertone, and then shook his head again, looking bemused all of a sudden.
“Say that again,” Darya laughed, “There was a time when Grandpa paced the yard the whole day just because Grandma was out of Bankole? He is hardly himself when she is away and mumbles impatiently for her return as if he is incapable of living for a week without her around.”
“That’s because Grandpa is protective. He is always worried about Grandma’s safety and happiness, not because he really misses her that much, but because he is a true man. Manliness in defense of our womenfolk is a quality he instilled in all his sons and grandsons.”
“Male chauvinists! You are all the same. You never appreciate the person your heart truly lies with,” Darya shot back.
“And that is why we have the world solely to ourselves.”
“Ah, you men! When are you going to learn to accept the true worth of the indispensable women in your lives?”
“Do I even need one?” I asked, wobbling my tongue provocatively at Darya while keeping an eye on my grandfather. I could see that he was making an effort not to laugh.
“Just as I don’t need men in my life,” she retorted with a pout.
I smiled widely, got up from my seat and whispered into her ear, “I just couldn’t be blind and deaf about your affair with Michel. You were already in the heat for him the last time I was here.”
Darya became bashful all of a sudden, got up and walked away. She was at the point of disappearing behind the door when she turned around suddenly and looked back at me with daring eyes and pouty lips.
“For your information, I dropped him a long time ago for higher grounds,” she said, and then melted away.
Her words left me thoughtful for a moment, to the point where I had to snap out of it by hitting my forehead with my open palm, and by shaking my head as if trying to balance my thoughts. In fact, I felt like my hangover was gone when I sat down again and turned to my grandfather.
“You two!” he chortled.
“Well, it shows it all. The world is ours. We men can have it whenever we want to,” I said in a voice devoid of conviction.
“What did you say to provoke such a reaction from her?”
“Nothing important! Just a prank on the blind emotions of the young.”
He grunted. “One never knows what you and Darya share from our ears. I hope you are not keeping something harmful away from our knowledge.”
“Nothing to worry about, trust me. Ha, Grandpa! You are having a story for my ears today, aren’t you? Wasn’t it about Ngamchouni?” I asked with heaved shoulders.
I could see the rising anxiety in my grandfather’s eyes and knew right away that he had something refreshing to tell me. Just as I was grappling with something nice to say to him again, it started raining outside, with the rain drops making splattering sounds on the roof of the house as if telling us that nature was in charge now. And since it did not need a genius to tell me that the sudden precipitation would keep him bogged down from taking his usual afternoon walks after lunch, I tilted back in my seat with a satisfied expression on my face and waited for him to tell another story, knowing that he would be stuck with me for a while:
* * *
Ngamchouni, (my grandfather began) is a word used to denote the land of no return, which we acknowledge as the abode of the dead. Written records point to the ancient Greeks as the first people to conceive of Ngamchouni, which they called Hades. They described the abode of the dead as the world of the living dead ruled by Pluto, son of Cronus, who is famous as the younger brother of Zeus, the chief God of the Greeks.
* * *
“My knowledge of the ancient Greeks and their gods isn’t bad, is it?” my grandfather asked with beaming eyes.
“You are performing splendidly,” I replied.
“You flatter me,” he said, filled his mug with water, and then drank from it.
* * *
The composition of Ngamchouni or its intricate function is something mortal men can hardly boast of understanding. Even the best seers with their extra powers from beyond only have a partial understanding of it. Simply put, mortals like you with two natural eyes only can never understand the intricate nature of that abode of the dead. Now, some seers are summoned to Ngamchouni in their spirit form every now and then to partake in its activities.
The only time Ngamchouni accepts the presence of mortals is when Si―The Supreme, his subservient gods, and our ancestors decide to use them as emissaries to pass over the decisions, counsels, revelations, promises and portions of advance knowledge that those divine creatures want to share with us in the world of the living.
Two days ago, just after you left me and found the comfort of your bed for the voyage to slumberland, I too decided to snatch some sleep for a couple of hours in order to replenish the energy I lost during the long hours of work that day. As a matter of fact, my eyes were closed for just a few minutes when I perceived a distant call of my name. It was a call from Ngamchouni, summoning me over there. So, I braced myself for the encounter in a lackluster manner and dragged my feet to my stockade, which is where I actually communicate with the ancestors and occasionally with the gods. I locked myself inside and sank into a deep sleep that took me close to the doorsteps of the Dream World. Only then did my spirit leave my body in a manner that the seeing blind like you cannot fathom. It arrived at Ngamchouni moments after to find souls gathering there for a major council.
Ngamchouni is a strange environment, which very few mortals have been privileged to visit. So, you can understand why my nerves were somehow rattled, even though I’d been there before. I don’t blame myself because I was familiar with only a small portion of the place.
Now, the first reverend that caught my eye was Mangwani (Aecus), son of Ngoti (Zeus). He is one of the three judges in Ngamchouni. He was seated on an elevated throne, flanked by some lesser custodians of Ngamchouni whose names I do not remember. I was approaching this magnificent council gathering for judgment in a dazed manner, when my late friend, who was known back in his mortal days as Fokkam, distinguished himself from the crowd and greeted me. With hardly many words exchanged between us, he led me to a seat not far from Mangwani’s throne, and then asked me to settle into it and make myself comfortable. I was grateful to sit down and realized shortly afterwards that I was far less nervous than while I was on my feet. Suffice to note that Wakam dreaded Fokkam who was our no-nonsense friend back in his mortal days.
It took me a while to muster the courage to look around. Even after I familiarized myself with the place, I still had a hard time keeping my eyes on a particular object or soul for more than a few seconds. Thinking about it now, I feel embarrassed knowing that I darted my head from side to side like a hunted squirrel.
Time over there has a way of passing like a flash. I understood, even without an explanation from anyone, that the souls gathered there were mostly the dead descendants of the reputable Njomou, who happened to be Fokkam’s father. I also deduced in a flash that they were from Mechana (Tarturus), Engoma (Elysium) and Ngamchouni (Hades) itself.
Actually, I was getting over my astonishment and was beginning to question the purpose of my presence there when Mangwani rose from his throne and greeted the souls gathered there in a voice that sounded like the roar of thunder from above. His eyes were riveted on me most of the time as he welcomed the gathering. When he failed to take his eyes off me even after addressing the crowd, I feared I was in trouble. But that was not the case. He beckoned me to step forward, an order I obeyed with my head bowed too low for my comfort and my legs trembling uncomfortably underneath my torso.
Mangwani steadied me by placing his scepter on my shoulder. There must have been a sudden flash of luminance of some sort because I remember blinking my eyes several times, and then wondering at the back of my mind what it was all about. However, when he addressed the gathering again, I felt relieved that his attention was away from me.
“Njomou my loyal servant and child who maintained his reverence and belief in the house of Si—The Supreme, and who followed the trail his ancestors left behind, even in the strange lands of unbelievers; my humble disciple whose fear and commitment got repaid by the numerous descendants that came out of his loins, you implored me to convene this council and bring Kamjou forth from the land of mortals to act as our emissary. You want him here to bear witness to the proceedings. Step forward and lay open your complaints against your progeny in the land of mortals,” Mangwani announced.
Njomou stepped forward in a cautious manner, and then bowed in front of Mangwani. I could see his lips quivering in overwhelming reverence.
“My Great Lord, judge of the living and the dead, the giver of blessings and maledictions, the right arm of our all-powerful lord Achemana (Pluto), I stand before you as your humble disciple whose concern for the righteousness of the soul of his descendant forced him to rouse your divine wits with the forbearing of his descendants. Before I proceed, please let me implore on your forgiving heart to bear with me on this. I know I am abusing your love for me by keeping you away from your other concerns. I should be forthright about it, My Lord. My family and I gathered here in Ngamchouni, endured great pains in reaching an agreement to seek your wisdom to judge my descendant in the land of mortals.
“My Lord and Great Judge, we are worried about the actions of the head of my family who has been acting against the welfare of my descendants in the land of mortals. He lives in affluence and intolerable arrogance over the sweat of generations, an affluence he never intended to share with his family. He has combined that affluence with evil to make the lives of my other descendants miserable. Yes, My Great Lord and Judge, his actions have brought division within the ranks of my descendants in the land of mortals and have caused so much grief to other mortal souls that I love. My Great Lord and Judge, the toil of four generations is being threatened with extinction over there. Do something to save the fruits of my labor that he is wrecking in the land of mortals,” Njomou implored with a great deal of earnest in his voice.
“Tell me, Njomou, my loyal disciple. What do you want me to do?” Mangwani asked.
Njomou looked frightened and anguished when he muttered with quivering lips, “Please, My Great Lord and Judge, I am imploring on your omniscient judgment to send an emissary to bring him over here for trial.”
Njomou’s demand raised angry murmuring, sighs, clenched fists, pathetic mumblings, emphatic shaking of heads, drawn-out grunts, loud words of approval and unequivocal agitation that reflected the different feelings of sympathy, anger, and foreboding held by the council participants. They knew the likely outcome of the summon of a mortal soul from our world.
Mangwani held his scepter tightly in his right hand and cast a look on the council ground with an authority and perception that earthly dignitaries lack. Having observed and interpreted all the controversial views and the state of mind of the souls gathered there, he considered the different sentiments before he shook his head, and then declared in a thunderous voice that made me shiver in fright.
“Njomou, my loyal disciple, my humble servant and child of my heart demands that his successor in the land of mortals be brought over to Ngamchouni to stand in front of us for judgment. That wish shall be granted. I want everybody here to know that few of the mortals summoned to Ngamchouni before the liberation of their souls ever had the opportunity to return to their mortal shells.”
Having thus announced, Mangwani turned to me and placed his scepter on my shoulder again, and then declared in a less thunderous voice, “Kamjou is our special visitor from the land of mortals. He must hasten back to that abode and bring Ngankeu over here for trial.”
The silence that swept over the council ground following Mangwani’s pronouncement was so sudden and chilling that had a mosquito buzzed around, it would have been heard in an instant. With the purpose of my presence finally revealed, I became less nervous than before. Even a minute away from Ngamchouni in my familiar Bankole was something to look forward to. So, I turned to Mangwani and bowed in solemn respect.
“Judge of the living and the dead, our great god whose benevolence and malevolence have been felt by mortal souls in our world that has seen so much good and evil; as your humble servant, I shall leave for the land of my birth without delay and bring Ngankeu over here for judgment,” I mumbled with an anxious look on my face.
Mangwani regarded me with divine eyes that made my heart to throb in my chest faster than the pace-setter wanted it to, and that made my lips quiver in pace with my buckling legs. I was intimidated by his piercing gaze.
“You can go now. Get him over here without delay, so that we can proceed with the trial that is keeping everybody here in high anticipation,” Mangwani commanded.
I found myself back on earth the next moment, standing beside the snoring Ngankeu in his king-size bed. He was in an incomprehensible repose and reeked of alcohol like someone who bathed in expensive brandy moments ago. His mistress was not there at the time, but the stereo she left running was playing a wailing Bamileké song that almost made me dance. The mistress I am talking about is the woman who unleashed the evil forces on Ngankeu. She was away at her mother’s home, having been made to go there by a divine-inspired decision about an hour before I arrived. I wonder what I would have done had I found her at Ngankeu’s place. I probably would have strangled her.
I regarded the sleeping Ngankeu for a while and came to the conclusion that he was a victim rather than a villain. I am sure most of those who knew his sweet and lively nature when he was a child would have shared my gentle feelings for him. My overwhelming compassion for Ngankeu almost made me fail in my mission, had I not perceived an impatient call of my name from Mangwani himself.
Afraid that I could be reprimanded by the great judge, I seized Ngankeu by the wrist and ferried him off to Ngamchouni, where we found a great deal of agitation upon arrival. My hesitation in bringing him over had already triggered a frightening commotion, indicating all the more that the noble ancestors did not appreciate even a moment’s delay.
Ngankeu was made to stand in front of Mangwani. He did so trembling all over. I, on my part, returned to my former position in low spirits and regarded the miserable looking Ngankeu with a great deal of compassion. But there was little I could do to influence the verdict many could already predict. -
Mangwani stepped forward and raised his scepter, indicating that he wanted silence. The ancestors heeded his will without a moment’s hesitation because the place became still as if he had just cast a spell.
“Ngankeu, the son of Wetteu, the grandson of Fokkam who is Wetteu’s father, the great-grandson of my loyal disciple Njomou!” Mangwani announced in a thunderous voice.
“Yes, My Lord and Great Judge,” Ngankeu responded, still looking cowed and trembling all over.
Mangwani’s imposing divinity had a powerful effect on the frightened Ngankeu who kept looking in his direction in a darting manner.
“Your ancestors and the gods found your ways in the land of mortals worrisome. It even got Si-The Supreme involved. Your ancestors sighed each time you faltered. They wept whenever you quarreled with your brothers and sisters. Their hearts got laden with grief over your swindling and double-dealings with the men and women of the land of mortals. That notwithstanding, their love for you never wavered because they hoped to see you change. They consistently asked Achemana and the other gods for mercy, to the point where the gods grew weary of listening. Yes, Ngankeu, they wanted you to become a good person again.
“You had the opportunity to redeem yourself and lead the Njomou family with the astuteness employed by its founder―my loyal servant and disciple. But you opted not to change. You also showed no willingness to seek wisdom from beyond your world through our special agents like Kamjou who happens to be with us at the moment. Instead, you grappled with the ways of the devil even more and defied your ancestors and the gods,” Mangwani said in a reproachful tone.
“I am sorry, My Great Lord. I shall change. I promise you, My Great Lord; I promise you my ancestors, and I promise all the gods. You will see the transformation I shall undergo after I return to my world,” Ngankeu pleaded in earnest.
Mangwani regarded Ngankeu with disdain not unmixed with pity and anger.
“You have behaved like most mortals who ask for pity and cry for mercy whenever they are made to answer for the pains they inflicted on other mortals. And now, you promised to change. How many times did you promise mortals and immortals that you would change? How many times have my ministers forgiven you?”
“I shall change, My Great Lord. Please give me another chance to make amends for all the sins I have committed,” Ngankeu wept.
“Stop saying I will change, I will change, I will change, when you don’t have the courage to tell us the sins you committed,” said Mangwani with a note of disappointment in his voice.
“I confess I am feeble. I am blind and hopeless, but I am imploring on your mercy all the same.”
Mangwani shrugged in obvious compassion. “I don’t have much to say in this matter. Your ancestors asked for your presence here. They are the jury. They are the ones to come up with a verdict.”
“Please, My Lord, save me from their wrath,” Ngankeu pleaded in a loud voice.
Mangwani turned his eyes away from Ngankeu and looked at the council participants.
“Njomou, my loyal servant; you have the floor now. Step forward as the founder of the Njomou lineage and give us an account of your role in this affair. I must add that all of you here are free to voice your objection or support of the direction the proceeding is taking,” the great judge roared, and then sat down again in his throne.
Njomou distinguished himself from the crowd and stepped forward, looking aggrieved and haggard, with his leopard skin wrapped around his torso the way he had it during his mortal days when he performed in the traditional dances of his people. He looked so broken by rue and disbelief that I could have sworn at the time that he never found happiness in the ancestral world. Njomou stopped for a moment, regarded his great-grandson straight in the eye, shook his head and then walked past him to the second stair of the podium.
“The Great Judge, these are the children of my loins who form the family I began with my noble wife while I was a mortal, a family I nurtured under the concerned eyes of gods and ancestors I did not know,” Njomou began.
“As a mortal soul, I belonged to a generation that witnessed the arrival of strange values in our land, values that set confusion and hard feelings in all the places where mortals paid reverence to their ancestors as the intermediary to their the gods, who themselves are subservient to Si―The Supreme. It all began with the arrival of white men from across the Water-That-Never-Turns-Red. They came from across the oceans and lived with us. Their presence changed our values through their harsh rule and conspiracy with the missionaries who failed to see the common purpose of our different patterns of honoring the realm of Si―The Supreme.
“Yes, the rule imposed by white men displaced many of us from our ancestral lands where we had clear and fixed rules to observe and honor our obligations to our ancestors, the gods and Si―The Supreme. The great judge Mangwani who is here with us bears witness with me on this one. I never knew my parents in the land of mortal souls. I never truly had kinsmen during my entire stay in that land. I was abandoned in the forest of the land of the dwarf-looking people as a helpless crawling infant who still had a strong attachment to his mother’s breast milk. A hunter saved my life and carried me on his back through the dense mosquito-infested forest, over mountains and hills and even across rivers and streams to the southern portion of the Western High Plateau. He went through that ordeal because of me, an unknown entity who promised him nothing for the future.
“The truth is that my savior in the land of mortal souls never reached his destination in the north because a roving leopard killed him. But Mangwani himself saved me from the gruesome fate of massacre by acting upon an edict from Achemana, Ngoti, and Wahoti. He made me disappear in a haze. My miserable self was then delivered to the royal palace of the king of Bamjanja.
“The Bamjanja people were rendered extinct in a raid by a confederation of tribes in the north. It is not my place to explain the extent of the unprecedented carnage because I was too young at the time to remember anything. I was the only survivor the Bankole people found among the dead bodies. That was during the reign of King Njifenjeu, a man whose legacy has made his name dominant in the folksongs of Bankole ever since. This compassionate soul was so moved by grief that he wept openly for those killed and promised hell for the perpetrators. He offered to see into my miseries and put me under his custody as if I were his own child.
“I grew up into a man under the guidance of that benevolent king. In fact, my adopted father went the extra mile to find me a wife. He even gave me land to cultivate crops and feed my family. Fokkam was the first issue that came out of my loins. He was the joy of my marriage. Yes, he was my pride and that of the king who named him after his late father, whom he succeeded.
“Kamjou, who just joined us as our emissary in the land of mortals, is the son of my best friend while I was a mortal. His father and I were still young men when the first white men came to Bankole and baffled us with their superior inventions and wide knowledge. Their great knowledge opened the doors to limitless opportunities. I happened to be one of the few in Bankole at the time who envisaged a prosperous future for my family beyond that realm. That was why I started trading with our neighbors. However, not until I slept one night and dreamed of the prosperity that Mangwani had in store for me at The Coast, did I decide to do something about my bigger plans.
“That dream imprinted itself in my mind and cleared whatever lingering doubts I had about my plans for the future. And since I could not turn away from the revelation, I solicited Mangwani’s help through the best seer in Bankole. The wise seer revealed to me that my unknown ancestors, the gods and even Si―The Supreme wanted me to leave Bankole, the land I cherished so much. That was the only reason why I bade farewell to the people who meant so much to me in Bankole, and then began the arduous journey to The Coast with my family.
“My Great Lord and Judge, my honorable wife Montio who now sits in our midst can confirm or refute my words concerning the family I created while I was in the land of mortals. We settled in The Coast, by the foot of the great mountain. My wife and I worked hard to raise capital, and then bought land and began the extensive cultivation of cocoa and coffee. We invested in growing cash crops while always making sure that our barn stayed full with enough harvest to sustain the hungry stomachs of at least ten people for a year. I acquired enough money from that first investment, bought more land and expanded my influence.
“Like most men who realized they had attained standards far above those around them, I too courted the idea of acquiring another wife and even more. But then, the gods forbade me from doing that. The future of my lineage looked assured by all counts if I stuck with Si—The Supreme, and if I taught my descendants to do the same. That was something I strove to do during my later days in the land of mortals.
“My Great Judge, I was already an established man before you summoned me to Ngamchouni to be in the company of the souls that got there before me and to share the occasional presence of the gods. I didn’t know of any mortal in our area whose level of influence and wealth could measure up to mine. However, before I accepted the unavoidable journey to Ngamchouni, as I lay wrestling my soul from the mortal body whose strength had enabled me to fulfill the role the gods assigned to me, you Mangwani, our great judge and lord here, sent an emissary from Ngamchouni with some useful information meant for me. He revealed that Ngoti and his brothers wanted me to name a successor before my departure. I heeded their will and summoned my wife, sons, and daughters to my bedside for our last moment together. I blessed them all, gave my counsel on the intricate nature of life in the land of mortals, and then went on to spell out the way I wanted my family to continue in my absence.
“My Great Lord and Judge, my most depressing moment as a mortal soul was my last hours with my family. I knew my wife, children and grandchildren were silently weeping for my recovery, even though any rational person could see that my mortal frame could no longer contain a soul that was a step into the world of my ancestors. Even with the prayers and the numerous masses that they offered in my name for my recovery, I knew the gods and ancestors needed me in their abode, and I knew that they would not change their minds about their plans. In fact, I actually welcomed my departure from the land of mortal souls. There was a moment or two when I felt like defying the gods and ancestors, but I quickly accepted the fact that I could do nothing to prolong my stay there.
“It is true I calmly accepted the fact that I was about to leave the pride of my manhood. It is also true that I felt the pains of the inheritors of my legacy who were weeping like souls at a loss over what the future would hold in my absence. That was the principal reason why I secured my legacy by getting a pledge from my descendants to stay united, guard the family wealth for the prosperity of all, and to honor our ancestors and the gods. I was convinced that fortune would always be on their side if they continued threading the path I had chosen. I thought so because they had everything to gain by following in my footsteps. That was why I named Fokkam my successor before I took my last breath. He was expected to seek the counsel of the other family members every now and then, especially over matters pertaining to their collective welfare.
“That is how it was meant to be, My Great Lord and Judge. That is how Fokkam became the head of the family I began in the land of mortals. I won’t go any further because he is here to recount his role in the promising lineage that Ngankeu has been ruining.
“Please, My Great Lord and Judge, permit me to elaborate a little further. My ancestors and the gods appreciated my good leadership as a mortal and father of a promising family by allowing my soul to leave its mortal frame in a peaceful manner. I was overwhelmed with joy when I arrived here to the greetings and warm applause from the gods and ancestors. Even my Great Lord and Judge was there too, seated between Nganja(Rhadamanthus) and Nchoumi (Minos), who also showered me with warm words of love and congratulation, even though they were not that popular in my household in the land of mortals. One of my biggest consolations was the fact that even our almighty Achemana praised me too. That was it, that was my role and that was my legacy in the land of mortals.
“I think Fokkam is prepared to give us an account of the way he directed affairs in the family I began and left behind in the land of mortals for him to lead,” Njomou concluded.
Before Fokkam could even step forward, Mangwani motioned him to a stop, then sat up on his throne and looked at those around him for a moment. With his scepter held firmly in his hand, and with his face looking graver than that of any mortal I have ever laid eyes on, he nevertheless cut the picture of a benign reverend.
“Njomou, my loyal servant, son of mortal parents he never knew as a mortal,” Mangwani bellowed.
“Yes, My Lord, the great judge of the living and the dead,” Njomou quivered.
“Your story has been heard and understood. You played the role of a good husband, a committed father, a reliable friend, a beloved uncle, a trusted brother to those you shared no blood ties with, and a cherished adopted child to those who came close to your soul and needed you in those different capacities. Your home always accepted the needy, people who rarely left without smiles of satisfaction on their faces. Mortals frequently brought their problems to you, problems that other mortals were indifferent about. Yet, you were rational in your perceptions, discernments, verdicts and assistance. I liked the extent of your efforts not to fail the needy. Starving children were never denied food at your home and were given affection to enliven their souls. You raised your children to fear and adore the divines and your ancestors. You taught them to honor their elders and respect their fellow mortals. Those were virtues and values few mortals bothered to live with.
“You may not have known it, but I always kept an eye on you as you outwitted the devil in all his advances. I even made you one of my favorite mortals, sometimes to the displeasure of Achemana and my two partner judges, Nganja and Nchoumi.
“Njomou, my loyal servant and disciple, I want you to return to your seat now so that your heir and son can take the podium and tell us the nature of his role in this affair,” Mangwani declared, and then ushered Fokkam away.
The returning Njomou and the approaching Fokkam clung to each other for a moment in what appeared to be an affectionate embrace, but which in reality was a confirmation of their immortal commitment to the family dream. The forceful embrace was consummated by an even more forceful pat on the son’s back and a slight nudge to proceed.
“The fault must not come from you,” Njomou gritted as Fokkam edged away.
Fokkam turned around and met his father’s half-imploring eyes, then shook his head and smiled in a comforting and encouraging manner.
“It wouldn’t be me, Father. Not when I fought against my basic weaknesses to live up to the image you expected of your heir. I was your true son in my words and in my deeds,” Fokkam whispered, before continuing the overbearing march towards the podium...
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