<noinclude><pagequality level="1" user="" /><div class="pagetext">
{{delete|vandalism, not in native language}}
</noinclude>sign before the ceremony. There were only two other names in the
book's yellowing pages.
We did not feel safe; later on the analyst told me she had never
been so terrified in her life. We were completely in their power. While
The King ranted that we had cheated them out of money, all of our belongings, our bags and passports and wallets, were stashed in one of
their unlocked houses. During one meeting with The King and his retinue, a hunting rifle lay on the table in front of them. As The King
screamed at us, one of his sons carefully cleaned it, then loaded it up.
"I'm not sure I like the power dynamics I see here," the analyst
whispered to me.
While the analyst had earlier seemed a karmic curse, I now considered her a good-luck charm. It was easy for me to imagine myself and
the botanist burned at the stake by angry Bwiti who felt we were ruining their ritual--we were two pale-faced sad sacks desperate to know
the tribal mysteries---but it was impossible that they would hurt the
analyst. With her "Free Tibet" T-shirt, Patagonia pants, bug-eyed
glasses, and incessant chatter, she had a curious quality of indestructibility.
Finally it was decided that the initiation would proceed even
though we had cheated them. At the end of the ritual, however, The
King would not give us the special oil that bestows a deeper understanding of our visions through the year. "He himself will not walk
with you into the forest and explain to you the myth of the Bwiti, the
origin of the plants," Alain translated. Now Moutamba's tribe seemed
to regard us with contempt. Bwiti no longer seemed quite the "essence
of love" Lieberman had described.
----
IT WAS ALMOST DUSK. I was told to sit alone in front of the temple.
As night fell, the men of the Bwiti came to me. They were an impressive sight. They had changed from their everyday jeans and T-shirts
into tribal dress. Limbs and torsos bare, they wore animal pelts and
loincloths, with armbands and necklaces made from shells and feathers. Their jet-black skin was painted with white stripes and dots.
We walked in single file, away from the simple wooden houses of<noinclude>
<references/></div></noinclude>
This site is not affiliated with or endorsed in any way by the Wikimedia Foundation or any of its affiliates. In fact, we fucking despise them.
|
