My great-great-great paternal grandfather was from among the Mitsogo and Bakota tribes of the Kingdom of Orungu — modern-day Gabon. He was a n’ganga, or high priest, learned in the art and science of healing and casting spells. Everyone came to him for everything from indigestion to nightmares. Grandfather would sit outside his hut on a wooden stool as one person after the next came to him with their various ailments. He would close his eyes as the person explained their symptoms, nodding every few minutes and saying, “I see.” Some complained that Grandfather would fall asleep when people came to him for help. I know that’s not true, though. He was probably just resting his eyes like my grandmother used to do when I was young and I’d play in her hair and tell her about the latest episode of Batman.
One day a man came to Grandfather with a skin disease unlike anything he had ever seen. White blotches stretched across his otherwise perfect, black, rippling, velvet torso. Grandfather touched the affected parts of Blotches’ skin and closed his eyes. His hand began to turn white, and he groaned deeply. When he took his hand away, it returned to its normal purplish-black hue. Blotches asked him what was causing his sickness. Grandfather told him that he was possessed of an evil spirit.
He slowly got up from his stool and hobbled inside his hut. Ten minutes later Grandfather came out with a remedy made using bark from the sacred iboga tree. With its twisted roots and pink polka-dot leaves, the iboga was the tree of life for my ancestors. It was said God ordered His angels to take seeds from the first tree in the Garden of Eden and plant them across Mitsogo country. Far from forbidden, it was the means through which one could access the divine, and only n’ganga like Grandfather knew how to use it properly.
The next day Blotches came by, his skin healed but with a terrified look on his face. Trembling, he told Grandfather about a vision he had the night before.
Blotches: N’ganga! N’ganga! I am afraid that my disease is an omen of the downfall of our people!
Grandfather: What did you see?
Blotches: I saw the diseased patches of my skin climb off my body and form into men. They had the smile of a jackal, and viper’s venom dripped from their teeth.
Grandfather: Where did they go when they left your body?
Blotches: They went underneath the sea and came back up in large wooden beasts.
Grandfather closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath. The words formed into a mist that hung in the air between him and Blotches.
Blotches: What does it mean, N’ganga?
The mist vanished, and Grandfather opened his eyes, pausing for dramatic effect.
Grandfather: I think… I might have made a bad batch for you.
Blotches: I don’t understand.
Grandfather: I will make you another potion in mbandja. Meet me there tonight. Then, go to the forest, take the medicine, and sleep with the spirits of the forest. Tomorrow morning, come tell me what the ancestors say about your vision.
After sunrise the next day, Grandfather waited outside his hut for Blotches to come. He waited and waited until the sun began to slip behind the horizon. Suddenly he saw the man strolling toward him from a distance — his facial expression blank. Grandfather gasped softly when he saw that two-thirds of his body was covered with white spots. His eyes, once hazel, were now green, and his hair, once black, was now becoming a sandy brown. People began coming out of the huts, staring and whispering as he made his way to Grandfather. One of them shouted, “Hyena! Hyena!” — pointing out his resemblance to the spotted hyena, devil of the beasts of the forest.
Hyena stopped ten feet away from Grandfather and gazed past him, still expressionless. The people huddled around.
Grandfather: What news do you have, cursed one?
Hyena: M’ganga, the ancestors showed me a tree whose bark was pale but its roots were black. The fruit was rotten, but our people kept eating it. And the bark they rubbed on their skin till their bodies became pale, and they began speaking a strange tongue.
Grandfather: What did the ancestors say this all meant?
Hyena: They said it was the end of the sacred and the beginning of the new man.
Grandfather: What is the new man?
Hyena: I am the new man.
The crowd began murmuring again until it grew and grew into a panicked uproar, and people began to shout, “Demon!” and “Exile him!” Grandfather sighed heavily, as though annoyed, and stood up. The crowd grew silent instantly.
Grandfather: Bring me the bones of the ancestors and alert the Babongo that we are coming. It is time for a healing ceremony for the bewitched one.
The burning bundle of herbs illuminated the white-painted faces of the circle of men. They held the skulls with both hands six inches from the center of their chests, the herbs illuminating them like jack-o’-lanterns. The ceremony was performed far from the village, in the deep recesses of the forest. In the center of the circle was the prone, unconscious body of Blotches — the Hyena. Grandfather took a pomade made from the bark of twelve different trees and began rubbing it on the forehead and left breast of Hyena. The men in the circle began circumambulating and singing. One man stood on the opposite side of Grandfather, playing a flute made from an antelope’s horn. The bones of the ancestors — scattered across the ground — began to vibrate softly.
Grandfather stood up and began reciting an incantation that resembled a sermon I heard in church once.
“Bwiti is the duality of God. The good of the world and its evil are combined. They are inseparable. They are two sides of the same essence. Bwiti is as ancient as this world. In it one finds sacred science, capable of revealing all mysteries. Bwiti is preserved by our ancestors, the Black magi. We call upon them now to heal the hyena of his disease, for it is not simply a disease of the body but of the heart. Nlem myore.”
The ceremony went on for three days and two nights. Grandfather recited incantation after incantation. The herbs burned and burned and burned. The men sang and sang and sang. The flutist played and played and played. Then, right before sunrise on the third day, Hyena’s body began to convulse, and before everyone’s eyes he transformed into a real hyena with brown fur and black spots. The Hyena got up and began walking on the knees of its forelegs in front of Grandfather, a sign of submission. Grandfather held up his hand to signal the conclusion of the ceremony and granted the Hyena’s leave. It then ran off into the forest, laughing and howling.
