from bullets to bazookas

hidden truths

Well Christmas is around the corner, and I have been hearing about it for two months now. Seems everyone here is waiting for Christmas. It doesn't matter if you're Christian, Muslim, Spiritist, or if you even know who Christ is; this is your time of the year! The old, wrinkled, hunched over lady across from us, who drinks heavily, and causes trouble with her neighbours, is walking around singing "Gloria." Just two days ago, she falsely accused her tenant in public, shouting out in the open, that he wanted to sleep with her. This woman is over 70 years old, and the man is in his late 30's and has a wife and kids. All the neighbours ganged up on her this time around, saying this incident has gone "pasmak" (unbearable, over the limit - past the mark). She continued to ala-ala (quarrel loudly - holler-holler), claiming that she is going to the police. She claims to be a Christian and even attends our church when she feels like it.

The neighbours who are Muslim are all excited about Christmas as well. You can hear them singing carols and having a jolly ol' time. I haven't seen much of the traditional Christmas decorations as of yet.

Several of my friends back home emailed me wishing me a happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for remembering me while you stuffed yourselves with Turkey. At least two of them said that they would save some of the Turkey for me till I return - mould and all. Sweet friends! Although I am not too fond of Turkey, I did however miss the stuffing. I missed the Yonkers tradition of piling on Turkey, stuffing, Cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, Biryani (traditional Indian spiced rice), Mutton curry, Vegetable curry, Parata (Indian flat bread), and Indian pickle all on the same plate. Yes, we're an interesting bunch.

Thanksgiving however is not celebrated here, and many of you asked if it was. These folks have no reason to celebrate the holiday. After all, this whole deal happened between the Pilgrims and the Indians. None of them here care much about Pilgrims or Indians. They do however celebrate something called Tanksgivin, but it is not celebrated nationally on the same day. Different churches have a day that they call Tanksgivin. On this day, the particular church gathers its members, has a service, and then serves a meal to the congregation. The children form a choir and sing songs, there is dancing and celebration. Some of the churches even serve beer and wine, and the members stand out and smoke - notably the Anglican church. Many of the members who don't regularly attend service, make sure they attend the Tanksgivin service.

Last Saturday, the 26th of November, I decided to walk down the street to get three packets of biscuits as I just wanted to have some at midday. No sooner did I turn the corner, I heard a group of people chanting and making noise. All the members of the group wore all white garments, and many had walking sticks painted in black and white horizontal stripes. There was one man dressed in a bright red robe. His face and head was covered with the same red covering. The portion of the face covering was cut out in an oval, and was filled in with a white mesh like cloth. His walking stick was more ornate and had strings and fibers tied to it. As soon as they saw me, one of them recognized me and said out loud "born again." The leader of the group, a man also fitted in white, stretched out his stick toward me, and very harshly barked "Yu, oba yanda!" ("You, over there!") I obeyed and walked over to the side where a group of young kids stood watching the troop. All the while, the rest of them continued to chant. "Yu na strenja, eh?" ("You're a visitor here, are you not?"), he addressed me publicly. "Yes, Sir!" I responded. He then stretched out his stick and harshly commanded me saying, "Pas, go. Pas!" ("Pass, go. Pass!"). I calmly walked past them while I heard some of the spectators exclaim "E!" By the time I purchased the biscuits, turned around and crossed the street, the troop was on the same end of the street as I was. I continued to walk towards them to get past them, and some of the spectators pulled me aside, scolded me and warned me to wait. Then when it was "safe" one of them escorted me past them.

When I returned home, I asked Bro. Samuel what all the spectacle was about. He explained to me that they were the members of the local Oje secret society, and that it was their day to "play" today. He explained that there is one member in the group who is appointed by the underwater devil to come meet with him. If the society wants to come out to play, they cannot arbitrarily choose a day. The group as a whole will take this man on whom the lot has fallen on, to the sea. The leader of the group, the man endowed with mystical powers, will then spread some form of liquid over this mans face which enables him to see the underwater spirit. The spirit comes out of the sea with something in his hands. This man will have to then run towards the spirit, grab what is in his hands, and immediately turn around and run back. The rest of the members position themselves strategically in order to grab the man when he runs back towards them. Since he is now possessed, and is in the spirit world, he runs with superhuman strength and speed. If the man is unable to grab what is in the hands of the spirit, and does not return with it, the rest of the members will beat him to death. The thing that the man brings back from the spirit contains the date for the play. Only on this day can they go out and play.

If you get in their way, harm them, abuse them, or get into trouble with them, they have the power to "ale" (pronounced aleh) you. Ale is a powdered herb that irritates the skin causing you to scratch. Boils form on the skin, and the skin is disfigured. You will eventually die from its effects. The other definition for ale is: to cause to vanish. This was why I was chided and warned by the spectators, and why they exclaimed "E!" when surprisingly, the leader allowed me to pass. This does not normally happen. The man in the red, called agbado, is the "devil" of the society. Each society has its own devil.

Just yesterday, members of the ontin (hunting) society were out dancing and chanting. I didn't get a good look at them, but the "devil" of the group was taller than the rest, and had on brown garb. Some of the members, in groups of two, carried a pole on their shoulders with leaves hanging from the pole - sort of like carrying a dead animal on a pole. The ontin society was imported into Sierra Leone by the Yoruba settlers from Nigeria. This society's primary activity is hunting in the bush. Like most societies, their activities are shrouded in mystery.

Sometimes, all the references to "hidden manna", "hidden ministry", "hidden truths", etc. make me feel like I belong to one of these secret societies.

posted by bthomas24 @ 12:34 PM